


Reluctant, but not really, Godfathers

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel True Forms, Crowley gardening, Crowley hates horses, DO NOT STEAL, Demon True Forms, Dinner Party, Do Not Repost to Other Sites, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Eden - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mesopotamia, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Real talk with the former AntiChrist, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), The Feeling Is Mutual, Unicorns, Warlock has arrived, antique roadshow, first times doing new things, the overture of 1812, this why we can’t have nice things, with canons, with real canons and church bells, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Adam has decided to make Crowley and Aziraphale his godfathers so this is a story about one of his visits with them.And yes, that is a real article from the Guardian about Shropshire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More fluff

“What is it like to be an angel?”

Aziraphale took a moment to take off the glasses he didn’t really need, but thought he looks spiffing in anyway as he considered Adam’s question. It was one of those nights where the former infamous son of Satan had turned up quite late at their cottage, the one Crowley and Aziraphale lived in now after Almost Armageddon.

Once Adam found out that the angel didn’t need to sleep, and rarely if ever did, it became a fairly common occurrence for Adam to turn up at any hour of the night if he himself couldn’t sleep, and found himself too bored to try.

Up for any form of rebellion, Crowley was all for it since he was usually asleep anyway, and couldn’t be bothered. Aziraphale only admonished Adam about it until the boy pointed that their cottage was probably the safest place for him to come and visit at 3am, and better here than somewhere else out in the world. 

Aziraphale couldn’t fault him there so the angel stocked up on tea and biscuits for Adam’s future impromptu visits. Aziraphale and Crowley got used to the fact that the former Antichrist had decided having an angel and a demon as godparents would be brilliant. 

Knowing about all the trouble children could get into, Crowley added another room onto the cottage so that Adam could stay over if he didn’t feel like heading back at some unreasonably hour, or wouldn’t let either of them miracle him back to his bed at home. That, and if Crowley needed to steal Aziraphale back for cuddles, Adam had his own space, other than poking around their cottage’s corners. 

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale finally said, unsure of how to answer it, and to what extent.

“I dunno. Like do you feel human, but with powers?” Adam tried again after some thought. 

“Adam, I know I look it, but I’m not actually a man, and I am definitely not a human so I don’t really have any point of reference to go by. I just feel like me.” Aziraphale explained the best he could. “And I always have.”

“But how do you feel?” Adam strained, “Like on the inside.”

“Rather annoyed at this point.”

“You’re not even trying.” Adam said with an type of exasperated sigh only children could pull off, the one that hinted that adults were being intentionally thick in the head out of spite.

“This body isn’t real. It’s just a vessel I pour part of myself into. You should know. You gave it to me.” Aziraphale said, putting his book to the side for now. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long conversation. 

“Yeah, not sure how I did that.” Adam admitted, “What do you actually look like then when you’re not pouring yourself into vessels?”

“Nothing pleasant by human standards of beauty, I assure you.” Aziraphale smiled. It always amazed him how wrong humans got it. 

“I thought angels were supposed to be beautiful.” Adam said, recalling all the sermons he hadn’t slept through when his parents bothered themselves with religion. In Adam’s opinion, his stories were much better, and had pirates in them. “That’s what everyone says anyway.”

“We are, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and humans have a very limited view of what they consider beautiful.” Aziraphale said with a soft chuckle, “To give you a better idea of that, a fellow angel of mine accidentally showed his true form to a writer named Lovecraft. Are you familiar at all with his work?”

“The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think so.” Adam said as the angel got up to start perusing his many, many books. It only took him a moment to find what he was looking for, a task only Aziraphale could do in a timely manner, the angel having his own bizarre filing system. The book title proclaimed itself to be “The Call of Cthulhu", the angel flipping through the pages until he found the artwork he was looking for. “I hope that this doesn’t give you nightmares. It certainly gave Lovecraft the fright of his life and more than enough writing fodder for the rest of his career.”

“Angels have tentacles?” Adam asked after a long moment of studying. He was suddenly very interested in finding out what Aziraphale really looked like now. 

“Some do. Some don’t. It depends on what Choir they belong to.” Aziraphale said, “The ones considered closest to God tend to look the most...interesting, at least by human perception.”

“I’ve read a bit about that in Anathema’s magazines.” Adam said, making Aziraphale openly wince with distaste. The angel wondered what kind of dribble had been printed about his kind now. “What are you?”

“I am a Principality, or I was. I’m not entirely sure about that anymore.” Aziraphale sighed. Nothing had changed for him power-wise. He was not cut off from Heaven, but the other angels didn’t bother him anymore either so he was technically an angel without a purpose. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that made him. “A Principality is from one of the lowest spheres of angels. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not a very impressive angel.”

“Do you miss Heaven?” Adam asked with all the graceful tact of a child.

“No. No, I don’t.” Aziraphale answered honestly, without hesitation, surprising himself. “I’ve made my own version of it here on Earth with Crowley.”

“I dunno...” Adam said in that definite tone of his, the one that had raised Atlantis, and summoned aliens. He might not be the Antichrist anymore, but power like that just didn’t go away, at least not all of it. “You say you’re not impressive, but I think you creating your own Heaven makes you the most powerful angel of all.” 

“W-why the sudden interest in the ethereal?” A strange tingling washed over Aziraphale, one he chose to ignore at he moment as he tried to distract Adam. Aziraphale decided it was best not to dwell on tomorrow’s problems.

“One of the magazine’s articles said that angels were covered in eyes. I was wondering if it were true, and what that would be like, seeing everything at once.” Adam said, “How do you avoid getting headaches with so many eyes?”

“Oh, is that all?” Aziraphale laughed, letting a little bit of his celestial form slip out of his skin. His hair turned more feathery as multiple eyes opened all over his face, complimented the lines and structure of it, trailing down his neck, the irises all in shades of blue. “What do you think?”

“That’s brilliant!” Adam shouted, jumping up to take a closer look. He moved around Aziraphale, noting how the eyes followed him. “Can you see out of all of them?”

“Of course I can.” Aziraphale chuckled, winking all the ones on the left side at Adam. “It wouldn’t do me much good if I I couldn’t.” 

“And you don’t get headaches?” Adam asked, holding up a finger to move it back and forth. Aziraphale dutifully tracked it.

“No, not the regular kind you’re talking about anyway. Mine tend to be more human shaped with lots of questions.” Aziraphale said dryly as Adam began to run around him, holding his finger out. It caused a ripple effect in all the eyes.

“What are you two going on about now?” Crowley yawned, joining them still dressed for bed in black silk pajamas. 

“Sorry, dear. Did we wake you?” Aziraphale smiled. It was the kind of expression Adam noticed that was only for Crowley. That, and the angel began to glow, Aziraphale forgetting himself a bit with all his eyes out in the open.

“You did, going all ethereal like that. You know I can’t resist you when you look this good, angel.” Crowley said with a sly smile, leaning in to press kisses in-between all the Aziraphale’s eyes. Unable to help himself, Crowley ran his fingers through feathery curls, exquisitely soft to the touch. It only made the angel glow more, the outline of his halo beginning to show. 

“Do demons do that? Get all eyebally?” Adam asked, studying Crowley’s face when the demon finally pulled himself away from his angel. He looked over at the boy in open amusement.

“Nah. Eyeballs are an angel thing.” Crowley said.

“What do demons do then?” Adam asked, his full daunting attention on the demon now. 

“More of a container thing.” Crowley said, trying to wave that kind of attention off. He was extremely unsuccessful.

“What?” Adam proceeded, “What do you mean?”

“Adam, you have to understand that this isn’t a real body.” Crowley tried, but was only digging himself in deeper. 

“It looks real enough.” Adam said, poking Crowley in his side. “Feels real enough to me.”

“Well, it’s not. It’s more like a very complex meat puppet than an actual body.” Crowley said, twisting like only a serpent could to avoid more poking. “If you were ever to visit Hell, and that is not a suggestion, you would see most demons down there riding around on top of their bodies, not in them.

“You said most. I’m taking that you don’t then.” Adam asked, reminding Crowley why he begrudgingly like the former AntiChrist. He had to hand it to the kid. Adam was quick on the uptake. 

“Hell no. It looks bloody ridiculous. For example-This isn’t a tattoo.” Crowley said as he tapped the side of his face. It caused the little snake there to uncoil itself and shift, the reptile slithering up to the top of the demon’s head. It grew in size as it neared Crowley’s hairline, emerging out from under the skin to curl up on top like some strange living snake crown. “See what I mean? It looks awful, no style to it.”

“You still look like you, but with a snake in your head now.” Adam nodded in agreement. “Even your mouth is still moving.”

“Trust fall.” Was the only warning Aziraphale got before Crowley slithered off his own head, moving to sit on top of the angel’s own, the serpent luxuriating in the feather curls. Leaving his body behind like that cause it to fall back like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Adam startled back as the body’s eye went void, the demon’s golden eyes winking out as the sockets sunk in. 

“I hate it when you do that.” Aziraphale said as he caught the body to prop it up, waving Crowley’s lifeless hand at Adam. He easily picked up the demon’s container, setting it neatly aside so Crowley could return to it later. 

“Oi, don’t lie me down like that. I’ll get a crick in my neck.” Crowley fussed, supervising how he should be arranged. 

“I’m well aware. It’s not the first time I’ve done this, dear.” Aziraphale fussed back, grabbing a small throw pillow for the demon’s head. “Remember Venice, when you had to play the corpse to avoid being executed by that very angry Prince?” 

“Vividly! That’s how I know about my neck. I couldn’t get that damn crick out of it for weeks. I tried everything.” Crowley said, “Could you turn down the lighting a wee bit? I don’t want to fry up here.”

“Sorry, dear. Forgot myself there.” Aziraphale’s halo dimming out, though he kept the eyes out for Adam. “It’s your own fault for not asking me for help with your neck.”

“How was I to know that you spent considerable time in the East, and learned how to do healing massages?”

“Learned it? I help create it.”

“I thought demons would look more impressive. You still look like a regular old snake.” Adam said, reminding the two that he was still there. “Where are your horns? And shouldn’t you have a tail? Well, a different tail, different from the one you got now.”

“That’s all made up artistic license. I have neither of those. Most demons don’t unless they’re willing to make an effort for show. You humans have some very odd expectations.” Crowley said, who would have rolled his eyes if were physical possible. Thankfully, Aziraphale did it for him, probably thinking about the misrepresentation of angels as well. 

“You’re very disappointing as a demon.” Adam said with his usual direct honesty. 

“Everyone issss a critic.” Crowley hissed, leaving Aziraphale so that he could twist and change some more. Adam soon found himself staring up at a ginormous snake, one the filled the cottage to its very brim with armored scales, gleaming sharp fangs that dripped acidic venom, and a long whiplike tongue that flicked out hellfire. “Better?”

“Much.” Adam nodded, definitively more impressed with this version of the demon. 

“Crowley, I swear to someone that if you ruin this new carpet showing off...”

“Relax, angel.” Crowley said, shifting himself back into his earthly container. He ended up having to pop his jaw back into place anyway, despite all the angel’s best efforts. It always got quirky when he left his body like that. 

“That being said, that’s not what he really looks like either. It’s just an approximation.” Aziraphale said as he inspected the carpet from any acidic or hellfire damage, not that their warranty would cover either. “Our true forms actually reside in the Between.”

“Before you ask, the Between is neither Heaven or Hell. It is a neutral space folded between realities where beings of immense power like ourselves can reside while we are away from the ‘home offices’.” Crowley explained quickly, trying to cut Adam’s next round of questions off at the chase. “And no, you can’t go there so don’t bother asking. For whatever reason, cats can, but humans and other human shaped things aren’t meant to go here, at least not for very long.” 

“Why? What happens to them?” Adam asked anyway. 

“Nothing pleasant, I am afraid to say. Humans tend to explode on a physical level. If one somehow manages to avoid that outcome, there isn’t any guarantee that their minds will return with them.” Aziraphale said, satisfied with the carpet’s state of being. 

“And there you go. Exploding fun, or endless insanity.” Crowley offered up. Of course, the two choice didn’t detour Adam in the slightest.

“But I might not explode, being the son of Satan and all.” Adam mused. Now that he knew that there were other places to go, Adam realized he just had to figure out how to get to them. 

“You were the son of Satan. Past tense. Now, you’re just a boy.” Crowley said firmly. 

“You know that’s not entirely true.” Adam pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, you’re still mostly human so don’t push your luck.” Crowley said with a scowl. “Why do you want to see what we look like anyway? Most humans consider it the stuff of nightmares. Hell, Aziraphale could easily tussle with Godzilla.”

“Crowley, I would never!” Aziraphale said, which Crowley found particularly amusing because he was completely certain that the angel had no idea what or who a Godzilla was. 

“Well, maybe Mothra. Nah, you’re enough of a bastard to take Godzilla head-on.” Crowley kept with it. 

“Really?!” Adam looked at the angel with newfound respect, his interest in the ethereal peaked again. Aziraphale shot Crowley a very sour look. 

“Oh, yeah. He’s got more arms than that lizard by loads.” Crowley ignored the angel. 

“Pray tell, why would I be fighting a lizard?” Aziraphale asked, Crowley’s assessment right on the money. The angel was completely lost. All he knew is that he didn’t want to fight any lizard. Seemed quite unfair for the reptile in his opinion.

“How’s many arms do you have?!” Adam asked, imagining Aziraphale momentarily as a centipede. 

“More than two.” Aziraphale teased.

“Oodles. Oodles of arms!” Crowley crowed, ignoring the Look his angel was giving him, the one that said if he ended up with even more arms thanks to Adam that Crowley was never going to hear the end of it. “Good thing to, considering all the harps he has to play.”

“Don’t you dare put that into his head, you vile serpent!” Aziraphale ended up throwing a convenient cushion at Crowley’s head, the demon too busy laughing to care. “Adam, don’t believe a word of it. Angel do not play harps.” 

“What instrument do you play then if you don’t play a harp?” Adam asked.

“Let me see...” Aziraphale mulled it over, “Well, I did learn how to play the piano fairly well at some point in the late 1800th century.”

“About as well as your magic act.” Crowley grumbled, but not low enough for safety’s sake. 

“You can do magic?” Adam asked with too much enthusiasm for the demon’s liking. Aziraphale didn’t need any encouragement in that area, especially not from the likes of Adam. 

“No, he can’t!” Crowley quickly intervened, suddenly realizing the folly of his mistake. 

“You’re no fun.” Aziraphale pouted, “I just have to get back into practice is all.”

“You can do proper magic. You can literally make things disappear!” Crowley said, dusting off a centuries old argument.

“It’s not as fun.” Aziraphale said, making a coin ‘appear’ out of Crowley’s ear, and then promptly dropped the coin. Not detoured in the slightest, the angel did the ‘trick’ again to the other ear. “Whaaaaa”

“Stop. Please stop. I’m begging you. It’s embarrassing, and if you try anything else, I’ll properly disappear all your books that teach this rubbish.” Crowley said, fingers posed and ready to do just that. 

“You wouldn’t dare!” Aziraphale gasped, all his eyes glaring at the demon. 

“Can you do human magic?” Adam asked, “Like the kind Anathema does?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale said, suddenly looking quite superior about something. 

“No.” Crowley muttered, glaring at the smug angel.

“Well, which is it?” Adam prodded, liking where this was going. 

“You have to understand that comparatively to forces of Heaven and Hell, human magic is deeply flawed and quite imprecise, full of misinformation.” Aziraphale lectured. 

“Meaning you have to wade through a whole ocean of shit to get to a single nugget of gold.” Crowley grumbled less eloquently. 

“Vulgar analogy, but he’s not wrong.” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley a Look, the demon making a face back. “One must have great patience, and be very well read to even attempt that version of magic.”

“You would think, but then they go and try it anyway.” Crowley sighed. 

“Don’t mind him. He gets quite tetchy about the subject.” Aziraphale said with a smile just to irk the demon. 

“Why?”

“Satanist and teenagers tend to be hasty about such things. Being summoned isn’t the most comfortable of experiences.” Aziraphale explained. 

“How in the Nine Rings of Hell would you know?! No one ever summons up an angel!” Crowley fumed, beginning to pace. 

“I’ve heard you complain about it enough to live vicariously through the experience.” Aziraphale said in a dry tone. 

“All I’m saying is that it’s not fair. Of all the occult beings, why do I get picked on?” Crowley complained to a mostly unsympathetic audience. 

“You’ve answered your own question, my dear. Because angels are ethereal, not occult. People pray to angels.” Aziraphale said, looking quite pleased with himself. “You see, Adam, most people don’t know what they are doing when they summon a demon so the spell tends to lock on the closest demon on this plane of existence instead of summoning up one straight out of Hell which is a bit more tricky, and involves a wider variety of bodily fluids.”

“So if Crowley is usually here on Earth...” Adam reasoned out.

“Then he is the demon that gets summoned the most.” Aziraphale finished for him with a little too much amusement.

“It’s not funny.” Crowley sulked, “I mean most witches are alright, and they usually have alcohol with them, but bloody Satanist are always useless wankers who didn’t expect it to work, not really anyways, so they have no idea what to do when I actually show up. Don’t get me started about the teenagers.”

“What’s so bad about teenagers?” Adam asked being almost one himself.

“Everything.” Crowley spat out. 

“They tend to think a demon is supposed to act like a genie.” Aziraphale was fighting to keep a straight face, and failing.

“I want what’s-their-face to fall in love with me, I want to be prom queen, I want a bigger cock, I want everyone in my school to get herpes...” Crowley mimicked some of his past request with obvious distaste. “It’s always the same boring thing. The youth of today have no imagination.”

“Thankfully, most of the time they forget to put a circle of protection around the summoning circle.” Aziraphale said, miracling up some tea and biscuits. “Do go on, dear. I’ll play Mother.”

“What happens then?” Adam managed out between mouthful of biscuits. 

“After I put the fear of Me into them, I walk out and try to figure out where the Hell I’ve ended up.” Crowley said, turning the tea into something with a much higher alcoholic content. “It’s a miserable nuisance, especially if I was in the middle of something important.”

“What if they do put a protection circle in place?”

“Then I get to waste my time tricking the little idiots into letting me go.” Crowley grumbled into his single malt scotch tea.

“Or I just come fish him out of it if it’s taking too long. After it happened a few too many times in a row, we set up a system.” Aziraphale said, “A cult got their hands on some true forbidden knowledge, and shared it with all their members.”

“And whose fault was that, I wonder?” Crowley said overly loud in a very pointed tone. 

“Would you let it go? It was over seven hundred years ago.” Aziraphale sighed. 

“What happened?” Adam just knew he was going to enjoy the angel’s answer. Aziraphale and Crowley told the best stories. One just had to be patient, or wait until either were in their cups. 

“The greatest hoarder of books here got completely knackered in a busy tavern one night, and left an incredibly powerful tome there, right there out in the open where anyone could take it.” Crowley said, pointing his cup at said greatest hoarder of books who had the audacity, at least in Crowley’s opinion, to look offended.

“And whose fault was that, I wonder? I had help getting drunk enough to forget a book of all things in Creation, you old serpent.” Aziraphale shot back, “And I found it, didn’t I? And all of its copies.”

“Took you a while, during which time I had every little cultist idiot summoning me left, right, and center. I couldn’t get that damn smell out of my hair for months.” Crowley grumbled, refilling his teacup. 

“Quit being a heathen, and get a proper glass if you’re going to drink scotch. Don’t you dare go changing my Wedgwood.” Aziraphale said, before turning back to Adam. “Ritualistic magic has a funny smell to it, partly due to combination of the ingredients involved, and the pathways that one is made to travel through.”

“So they take you through the Between?”

“No, they drag you through the mud of folded realities.” Crowley said, miracling up a glass up to appease the angel. Heaven forbid anyone disrespect one of Aziraphale’s many tea sets.

“Quit being so melodramatic.” Aziraphale rolled all his eyes, “There are different versions of reality folded in on one another.”

“Oh, I’ve read about this in the magazines. They’re called parallel worlds.” Adam said, proud of himself for remembering, even if he hadn’t understood everything he had read. 

“Yes, and no. That is sort of its own thing, but you’re getting the gist of it.” Aziraphale said, not getting the chance to explain.

“Origami cranes!” Crowley blurted out. 

“What about them, dear?” Aziraphale asked, completely unfazed by it. Adam appeared intrigued though.

“Think of reality, this reality, as an origami crane.” Crowley said, looking quite pleased with himself about something. “But not too hard. Don’t want to end up as paper dolls.”

“I don’t follow.” Aziraphale admitted, wondering where this was going. 

“Okay.” Adam was here for this.

“Why an origami crane?” Aziraphale asked.

“Cause it’s folded paper.”

“But you can fold paper into almost anything. Why a crane? Why not a duck?” Aziraphale asked. He had seen an origami duck once, and remembered it to be quite cute.

“Not the point!” Crowley growled, “Crane, origami, folded paper, you with me?

“Yes!” Adam said, looking quite ready for the next bit.

“No.” Aziraphale said, looking quite put out.

“Good enough! I’ll take it!” Crowley forged on, “Now imagine a stack of origami cranes, each nestled neatly inside the other! That’s different realities sitting side by side while still on top of each other.”

“That’s amazing!” Adam said, his mind going in many different directions at once with new possibilities. He always had the most informative conversations with his godparents. 

“What do cranes have to do with anything?”

“Not a damn thing, angel.”

“Then why bring them up at all?” Aziraphale sighed, changing the tea into cocoa to sooth his mind. 

“Never mind all that. It’sss an analogy.” Crowley hissed, flicking his forked tongue at the angel.

“The cheek! I know what an analogy is.” Aziraphale said, looking rather miffed. “It just wasn’t a very good one.”

“I got it.” Adam said unhelpfully.

“Then my work here is done.” Crowley proudly announced, heading back to bed. 

“You didn’t really do anything.” Aziraphale pointed out, Adam nodding in agreement. 

“That’s the dream, angel.”


	2. It’s not so bad once you get used to it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how Crowley and Aziraphale became Adam’s godparents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote more for this. :)

Aziraphale blamed Crowley for it happening. Crowley blamed Aziraphale for it happening. In actuality, it was no one’s fault. God was just bored that day. 

The Happening was Adam’s decision to make Aziraphale and Crowley his godfathers. They hadn’t had any say in the matter. 

In an odd turn of events, which wasn’t particularly odd at all when you consider all the games God plays to amuse Herself, Madam Tracy and Mr. Shadwell were their closest neighbors, the pair retiring to the countryside as well. When Madame Tracy had found out, she called upon them one afternoon for tea. Aziraphale and Crowley hadn’t had any say in that matter either. 

To the pair’s tentative concern and utter lack of surprise, Anathema and Newt lived nearby as well, the witch purchasing the cottage she had been renting, and the Them were just a village over, an easy bike ride away. Anyone who had been anyone for the not-so End of Days were all back together again in roughly the same area. It made Aziraphale and Crowley worry and wonder in equal parts about ineffable plans. 

“I don’t think a party is really necessary.” Aziraphale said over impromptu tea. Madame Tracy had shown up with homemade jam, and a confused Shadwell in tow. The jam was black pepper strawberry, and went well with scones. Shadwell was neither of those things. 

“I agree with the Southern pansy.” Shadwell grumped. “Ain’t no need, at least not for the likes of them. Don’t think I’m not keeping both eyes on you, and this finger cocked, foul fiends.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Crowley said dryly, “Why is he here?”

“Manners, dear.” Aziraphale sighed. He really didn’t want to save Shadwell if Crowley decided to do something unfortunate to him. The angel was still little cross with him about being discorporated. 

“If he doesn’t have them, then why the Hell should I?” Crowley complained to an unsympathetic audience. “What’s the point of being a demon if I can’t tell someone off, especially in my own house?”

“Because I using the Wedgwood, and I don’t get many chances to bring it out.” Aziraphale said, who was quite proud of his collection of tea sets. “I’m sorry, my dear lady, but what were you saying before?”

“I was saying that it’s bad luck if you don’t have a housewarming party when you move into an old cottage like this.” Madam Tracy said, “Everyone knows that, Mr. Aziraphale.”

“Who says it’s bad luck?” Crowley piped up, not at all pleased with where this was going, or how Shadwell kept making weird gestures at him with his finger. 

“Everyone, dear.” Madam Tracy said with a firmer tone that Crowley was used to dealing with. “Now I was thinking something small. Intimate parties are always better in my opinion. Isn’t that right, Mr. Shadwell?”

And it is still Mr. Shadwell because old habits die hard, and Madame Tracy has a few kinks. 

“I won’t be going to any intimate anything in this house of evil, ya heathenish harlot.”

And it is still ‘harlot’, because Madame Tracy had given Shadwell some new kinks of his own. 

“Good to see the married life hasn’t mellowed him out.” Crowley snarked into his tea, Aziraphale tutting the demon under his breath. 

The impromptu tea turned out to be surprisingly productive, mostly due to Madame Tracy’s tenacity. A date was set, and invitations were sent out. Soon enough, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves to be celebrating their first house warming party. It was surprisingly turning out to be a smashing success without any issues, or it would have if Aziraphale hadn’t drank a little too much wine. 

“...And you see, Crowley and I were godparents for the wrong antichrist the whole time.” Aziraphale concluded to an equally stunned and amused audience. 

“Yes, isn’t that a riot.” Crowley said, “Can you please stop talking? This is not the kind of story you tell people.”

“So you’ve been godparents before?” Was the outcome of that. Adam looked thoughtful, making Crowley’s insides twist. Aziraphale remained unaware, rambling on now about the local farmer’s market to Madame Tracy, like he hadn’t been so casually talking about the very near end of the world. 

“Yes...to an extent.” Crowley said with great care, “We obviously weren’t very good at it.”

“So you can be again.” Was more a statement than a question. There was even more twisting in Crowley’s gut, that old familiar feeling of ‘you should’ve been running 30 seconds ago’.

“Yes. It’s not like that sort of thing goes away.” Crowley really didn’t like where this line of non-questioning that really should be questions was going. He looked to Aziraphale for help, but the angel had wandered off to show Anathema his books of prophecy. 

“Well, you can be my godparents then.” Was definitely a statement.

“Absolutely not.” Crowley said immediately, snapping his fingers behind his back. Aziraphale wasn’t happy about being sobered up, but it did get his attention. 

“Why not?” Adam shot back, completely undaunted.

“Why not what?” Aziraphale asked, getting a terrible feeling that he had missed something vital if the strange desperate looks Crowley was giving him were any indication. 

“Adam wants us to be his godparents.” Crowley said, handing off that shit sandwich to the angel. 

“No. No, thank you. We are not interested.” Aziraphale said, like Adam was some sort of insistent, tone deft Christmas carolers who had shown up at their door. Crowley buried his face in his hands, and hoped for the best. 

“Why not?” Adam was not going to be so easily detoured. The demon and angel noticed that everyone else was having deep conversations while very carefully avoiding eye contact. 

“Because..because Adam...we can’t be. We simply can’t be?” Aziraphale tried, but that came out more like a question when it should have been a statement. 

“But what if you could?” Adam was relentless, sensing weakness. 

“Adam, godparents tend to be trusted close friends of the family.” Aziraphale pointed out, finally rubbing two brain cells together fast enough to spark something. 

“The angel’s got you there. I’ve only met your father in passing twice, and he’s only met the angel here once. Neither of us even knows what your mother looks like. So see? We don’t know them. Can’t do it.” Crowley said, jumping on that logic train like a bandit. They both dared to hope that the matter would be over and done with.

They were going to learn the hard way that just because Adam gets quiet about something doesn’t mean he’s done with it quite just yet. 

This was found out the next day when their doorbell rang. Aziraphale looked up from his book to stare at Crowley who shrugged back, and then they both stared at the door.

“Who do you suppose that is?” Aziraphale asked, neither one of them bothering to get up as the door bell continued to ring:

“Dunno.” Crowley said, concentrating on their wards as Aziraphale did the same. “It’s not Hell calling on us.”

“It’s not Heaven either.” Aziraphale sighed as he got up, whatever behind the door being very persistent with the bell. “Do you think we should open it?”

“No, but the mystery of it will eat both of us up in different ways so we might as well get it over with.” Crowley sighed, Aziraphale finally getting up to go see who it was. The cottage was warded against Hell, Heaven, Mormons, and anyone trying to sell them something, or looking to collect money.

“Oh, hello again, Adam.” Aziraphale relaxed slightly, it being only the antichrist on their stoop. He was with two adults though, the rest of the Them oddly missing. It didn’t seem right to see Adam without the Them. 

Even though Aziraphale and Crowley appeared to be humans, and have been on earth for some time, that didn’t necessarily translate into them knowing basic common courtesies, like inviting visitors into one’s home. It left Aziraphale and Crowley wondering why no one was telling them why they were here. Mr. and Mrs. Young were very human and also terribly English. They were wondering a great many things at the moment, and mildly panicking on the inside the longer they stood out on the stoop.

“Adam said you wanted us to come round for supper. A kind of a ‘get to know you thing’ since you two are new to the area.” Mr. Young said finally after a long moment of odd silence of everyone staring at each other in the doorway.

“Oh, did he now, t-the scamp.” Aziraphale replied weakly to the news of it. 

“What are you lot doing here?” Crowley asked, joining in. He did not like where this conversation was going. 

“These humans, er, people are Mr. and Mrs Young, Adam’s parents, dear. They’re here for the...the dinner party.” Aziraphale word vomited.

“The what?!” The demon doing a body flinch at the sudden news of it. 

“Oh dear, Adam, did you get the date wrong?” Mrs. Young offered tactfully. Something was off about the pair, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Nothing particularly bad, just off. It didn’t help matters that one looked like a very sweet retired librarian, and the other, a faded rock musician who had just done another stint in rehab. 

“Ah, he doesn’t tell you things either, just like the missus.” Mr. Young obliviously ruined her efforts, even going so far as to nudge Crowley in the ribs like they were mates, or at least, tried to. He received a withering Look from Crowley who was not a fan of ‘take my wife’ comedy.

“Just call me an old silly. It must have slipped my mind. We’ve just been so busy, with the move and such. Please, do come in.” Aziraphale said, scooting in before something unpleasant happened to Mr. Young. “Dear, be a love, and go find us some wine.”

Something unpleasant did happen to Mr. Young, just not right at that particular moment. For the next month or so, Mr. Young wouldn’t be able to find his car keys, no matter where he put them for safe keeping. The only way they seemed to turn up was when Mr. Young gave up the search, finally resorting to asking his wife for help. Mr. Young was starting to develop a twitch every time he heard ‘What are you going on about, love? They’re right there in your hands.’

“Do make yourselves comfortable! Be out in a tick.” Aziraphale threw over his shoulder as the demon and angel hastily retreated to the kitchen.

“Why are we going along with this?” Crowley whispered, wondering why the Hell his angel looked so pleased all of the sudden. He was personally feeling the exact opposite of pleased at the moment. 

“Because it will be fun. We’re hosting a dinner party. I’ve never done that before.” Aziraphale grinned, excitement making his blue eyes sparkle in a way that Crowley knew that he was truly fucked. “Have you?”

“No. That’s exactly why we shouldn’t.” Crowley tried to resist, making an effort as Aziraphale miracled up some wine and glasses, and some ridiculous, kid friendly fruity drink with a curly straw for Adam. 

“How hard can it be?” Aziraphale said too flippantly for someone who had no experience whatsoever at what they were about to do as they rejoined their guests. The angel discreetly snapped in the direction of the dining room, Crowley feeling the shift in the cottage as that angel did something. 

“Something smells wonderful!” Mr. Young said, because it suddenly did, quite inexplainable. The humans moved towards it, discovering the new additions to the cottage. 

“Oh my... are you expecting more people?” Mrs. Young gasped, and with good reason.

Crowley groaned inwardly. Angels didn’t have the best imaginations so they tended to mimic, or copy human behavior when it was needed. Aziraphale was better at this than any other angel, but apparently from the looks of it, and their brand new enormously long table, and modified dining room to accommodate said enormously long table, the angel’s last point of reference for a dinner party was from the late 1800’s. It looked like it had been a Christmas feast with all the trimmings, meant for about 30 people. Crystal stemware, silver flatware, and gold finished plates gleamed at every place setting. 

“Is that a roast pig?” Mr. Young asked about what was most obviously a whole roasted pig with a perfect red apple in its mouth. It was flanked by beautifully decorated chickens and peacocks, all the poultry stuffed with savory delicacies. 

“So it is!” Crowley said, shooting a bedraggled questioning look at the angel who gestured helplessly back. The demon went about snapping up his own miracles to buy them some time to fix this mess. “Everyone else will be along soon enough. Angel, why don’t you show the Youngs our wine cellar, and let them pick out something while we wait.”

“But we have wine...” Mrs. Young started to say to be hushed by her husband who was suddenly getting very invested in this meal. 

“Now, now, dear. There must have some sort of white to go with...bloody hell, is that actually peacock?” Mr. Young managed out from his watering mouth. He wasn’t a connoisseur of wine, but even Mr. Young knew an expensive bottle when he saw one, the sumptuous red wine that their strange hosts were handing off to them costing more than their new living room set. “Never had peacock before.”

“Wine cellar? What wine cellar?” Aziraphale started off weakly, but recovered soon enough. “Oh yes, that wine cellar. Sorry, new house and all. I’d lose my head next if it weren’t attached. Where would that be again, dear, this wine cellar?”

“In the kitchen.” Crowley gritted was out, gesturing at Adam to follow him while his parents were distracted by the cavernous wine cellar that their hosts now owned.

“If you don’t want your mom and dad’s memory tampered with, call all your little friends, and I’ll call Bicycle Girl, and the Other One.” Crowley ordered, whipping out his phone. 

“Brilliant.” Adam grinned. It had been a gamble to come here with his parents, but Adam liked his odds, and his odds hadn’t let him down yet. 

“Have a dinner party, it will be fun, how hard can it be?” Crowley mimicked, making a face to go along with it as he waited for Anathema to pick up. Thankfully, she did, not that she had any real choice in the matter, and was soon filled in on the plan. After a few reluctant thoughts on the matter, Crowley decided to be ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’, Madame Tracy and Shadwell informed next about their evening plans. 

Snapping his fingers, Crowley waited until he and everyone else had heard the knocking. Anathema, and a rather bewildered Newt were welcomed in like they had arrived there in the usual manner instead of being delivered to the cottage via demon finger express. 

“I’ve never traveled like that before.” Anathema said softly enough for Crowley to hear while still looking like greetings to anyone else. “You’re going to have to tell me how it all works.” 

“Why are we here? Even better question, how did we get here?” Newt was much less discreet about it. He had been napping in the living room, and now he was attending a rather fancy looking dinner party if the whole roasted pig on the table was anything to go by. Anathema looked gorgeous as per usual, but she tended to do that naturally anyway. Newt was pretty sure that he has saliva drying somewhere on the collar of his jumper. 

Madame Tracy and Shadwell were next with roughly the same results. “How convenient. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Madame Tracy smiled, taking out a hand mirror to inspect new newly transported appearance. “Not even a hair out of place.”

“This is your doing, I’ll wager.” Shadwell huffed at Crowley. “I got my finger limbered up to deal with the likes of you.”

“Noted. Have a drink for all our sakes.” Crowley said, rolling his eyes as he gave Shadwell a very full glass of wine. 

The Them trickled in soon after, all with their somewhat confused parents in tow. Adam could be very persuasive, supernaturally so, and in his excitement had gone a bit overboard. The Them’s parents had no idea why they had been invited to these strange men’s home, but the food looked and smelled exquisite. Also, the Youngs were already there getting buzzed off expensive wine so everyone opted to stay, and not ask too many questions. 

All in all, the dinner party turned out to be an unexpected success. Pepper’s mother was especially delighted to have such a ‘progressive couple’ as she put it move into the area. Surprisingly, Wensleydale’s parents really hit it off with Madame Tracy, chatting about leaving London, their move to the countryside, and how their respective retirements were going. Brian’s dad got on with Shadwell like a house fire, the two trading in filthy jokes until they were made to stop for ‘the sake of the children’, all of whom were taking mental notes. 

Newt found his comfort zone in an inebriated Mr. Young, the former witchfinder fairly certain that Adam’s father was human as the man waxed philosophical about football. Mrs. Young became rather infatuated with Aziraphale, finding the angel’s extensive knowledge about food and culture charming. All the while, Anathema argued with Crowley about magical theory and its various applications as the demon kept a watchful eye on Mrs.Young.

“You know that it’s not going to work.” Pepper said, watching Adam study the room with that strange little smile of his, the one that made perfect dogs appear out of nowhere. “Your dad is not going to ask them to be your godparents .”

“I don’t think I need them to. They just had to meet Aziraphale and Crowley, and become friends with them is all.” Adam said. 

“Looks like your mum has already taken to the idea.” Wensleydale nodded toward a blissed out Mrs.Young who was being taught to waltz properly by Aziraphale, who being an angel tended to have that affect people when he was happy. Direct contact only amplified it. 

“He doesn’t look too keen about it.” Brian said around a drumstick, pointing the newly polished bone at pair’s significant others. Aziraphale’s pristine linens were marred with his greasy fingerprints. 

Mr. Young remained oblivious to it all as he nattered on about his team, Newt hanging on every word like a lifeline of normalcy. On the other hand, Crowley was positively seething with jealousy, enough so that it made all the milk go bad enough to curdle. 

“Whoa there! You need to calm down. Your aura is festering.” Anathema said, taking a step back to avoid the flare ups. 

“Comesss with being a demon.” Crowley hissed. The witch was right, of course, Crowley sighing as he tried to reel himself back in. Aziraphale was obviously having the time of his life playing host, the angel effortlessly passing Mrs. Young off to her befuddled husband who relaxed into the dance with just a touch on the shoulder from Aziraphale. 

Suddenly, it was like they were falling in love all over again. The glow in the room was not just the candlelight as every human was filled with an immense sense of ease and delight, the angel’s joy seeping into their beings, all around their edges. 

It was like a soothing balm to the demon’s aura as well, Anathema smiling to herself as she watched Aziraphale take Crowley into his arms. The angel pressed kisses to the frown he found there until the demon turned a very interesting shade of red, his aura cooling down to something quite beautiful to behold to those who could see it. The milk went back to behaving itself. 

“This feels like Christmas morning.” Adam grinned. Though it remained hidden to the others, he could see what was coming off the angel. The Principality’s halo and wings were in clear view to him, the prismatic white light emanating from Aziraphale. 

“Yeah, it’s like when you get up before everyone else, and run out to find the tree all filled up.” Brian said as he worked his way through an impressive amount of treacle, every nearby surface around him obnoxiously sticky for the remainder of the evening. “And you know you’re about to tear into all that paper.”

“It’s like that first sip of hot chocolate after you come in from the cold.” Wensleydale said with a shiver, “And your mum times it right, and the marshmallows are just soft enough.”

“It’s like when you’ve won a snowball fight, and you’re all too hot and cold at once.” Pepper grinned. She always won snowball fights. “You know it’s not going last. It never does.”

“It’s not supposed to, but I think that’s the point.” Adam shrugged, “We get the chance to create them all over again in different places with different people.”

Despite a few hiccups, the dinner party was a great success, Crowley even begrudgingly admitting that it was. Mostly due to how radiant it made Aziraphale during and afterward, the demon enjoying the contact high that came with that. 

When they met Adam again, it was in the garden, their garden to be exact, Crowley’s new pet project. The demon would spend hours yelling his crops into the shape he wanted. As a result, Crowley’s garden produced the most vibrant and beautiful produce. 

Unfortunately, it all tasted like fear, the tomatoes a little too acidic, the squash a little too bitter, and the apples just a little too sour. To balance out the flavors, Aziraphale had taken to reading in the garden while Crowley did his version of horticulture, which worked out well. The two of them didn’t like to be out of each other’s line of sight for too long, and the plants got a much needed reprieve when Aziraphale proved too distracting for Crowley to continue. 

“Ah, hello, Adam.” Aziraphale said, drawn away from his book by the former Destroyer of Worlds strolling into their garden. Dog sniffed around until he noticed Crowley staring him down with a very pointed glare. Hiding behind Adam, Dog knew that very bad things would happen to him if he were to piddle on the petunias.

“DO YOU CALL THIS A BLUSH OF PINK?! I’VE SEEN BETTER BLUSHES ON NUNS!” Crowley yelled at his honeycrisp apple tree, making Aziraphale grateful that they didn’t have any close neighbors. The two liked their privacy so they had procured quite a bit of land around their cottage. 

That, and they really enjoyed having unfettered sex outside under the stars. It simply wouldn’t do to melt some poor human’s eyes out of their head if they caught a glimpse of their true forms while taking an evening stroll. 

“What exactly is he doing?” Adam asked, watching as little orchard shook in fear. 

“Gardening, of course. What does it look like?” Aziraphale said in a miffed tone, the angel’s only experience with the subject coming from being around Crowley. Although he had opinions about it, Aziraphale thought it was perfectly normal for one to yell at their plants to achieve better growth from them.

“It’s looks mental. Incredibly fun, but mental.” Adam told it like it was. He wondered what would happen if he yelled at his mum’s garden. She had been quite cross with the roses lately for not blooming like they usually did.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley asked as he stalked up on them like only a snake with legs could. From time to time, Adam wondered how Crowley kept his balance. He had attempted walking like that, and had promptly fallen over several times. He quit trying after his father kept giving him funny looks, exchanging worried looks with his mother. 

“I’ve come to visit you.” Adam said, taking a seat on a moss covered rock beside Aziraphale.

“That’s very nice of you, but I think Crowley dear was wondering more about your intentions.” Aziraphale wondered if he should completely leave off his book. He was hoping that this situation wouldn’t require his full attention. 

“I think it’s important that family keep in touch. I want to be a good godson.” Adam said, much to the demon and angel’s chagrin. Aziraphale decided that this situation most definitely needed his full attention and then some.

“Adam, we’ve been over this. We can’t. We don’t fit the criteria.” Aziraphale began.

“Can’t do it. Don’t fit. End of discussion.” Crowley added.

“But you do. Mum and Dad consider you friends, you’re both immortal so you can’t go and claim that either of you have a condition, and you’re obviously well off so I know I won’t be a burden.” To no one’s surprise, Adam had obviously come well prepared. 

“Not in the typical sense anyway.” Crowley groaned, “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope!” Adam said with a shameless grin. 

“Why on Earth do you want us to be your godfathers? We’re not even human.” Aziraphale asked, the angel openly perplexed. 

You helped me save the world when you didn’t have to. I don’t care that you’re not human. You’re both good, and I think that’s more important.” Adam said in that thoughtful way of his. 

“Oh, Adam, thank you. Thank you.” Aziraphale said, the angel still easily moved by such declarations, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“That, and I think it would be wicked to have an angel and a demon as godparents. How cool would that be for any kid?” Adam said, playing to his audience like a pro.

“Only one of us is wicked, but still very cool.” Crowley sighed, earning him a fond look from his angel. Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, Aziraphale knew that the demon tailored his life to come off as effortlessly cool. 

“Well, at least this time we know we got the right one.” Aziraphale said in a tone that hinted toward defeat. 

“Angel, you can’t be serious.” Crowley said with a pained expression. Pained because once Adam had Aziraphale on board for this terrible idea, there would be no turning back. 

“Our Side should be more than just the two of us.” Aziraphale said softly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. They had both lost their place in the kingdoms of Heaven and Hell to live here on Earth. “And it’s not often than one gets to choose their family, or be chosen to make one.”

“Do you want this?” Crowley asked just as softly, reaching out to touch the angel’s cheeks to gain back his attention 

“Yes, I think I really do, but only if you desire it as well. I don’t want to do anything ever again without you.” Aziraphale said firmly, catching the demon’s hand with his own to keep it cupping the side of his face. He kissed Crowley’s hand like he was placing a promise there on his life lines. 

“Oh, angel...” Crowley helplessly sighed out, pulling Aziraphale in close for a deep kiss.

When it didn’t look like the two were going to stop anytime soon, Adam wandered into the house to watch some telly, helping himself to Aziraphale’s biscuits until the demon and angel were done. 

He took their response, or lack there of, as a resounding ‘yes’.

And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos get lost in the wine cellar, and your comments run off with the whole roasted pig.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale, Crowley, and Adam spend a lazy day watching Antiques Roadshow, and Crowley gets all soppy talking about his angel.
> 
> And yes, that is a real article from the Guardian about Shropshire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Antiques Roadshow. It’s my own personal head canon that Aziraphale would LOVE that damn show, the UK version. Crowley gets hooked on it because from time to time, they’ll see some of their own junk on it, and laughed their asses off when the ‘experts’ get something wrong about it, or make fun of each other if it’s worthless, or priceless.
> 
> “That’s absurd! 10,000 for that?! I distinctively remember you paying a mere farthing for it.”
> 
> “What can I say, angel. I have an eye for quality and craftsmanship.”
> 
> “Hardly. You were so drunk when you bought it, you mistook it for something else entirely.”

“Angel...what in the name of Heaven and Hell are you watching?”

“It’s called ‘Antiques Roadshow’.” Aziraphale said, finally pulling his attention away from the television. “They’re apparently having a marathon of them. Do you know about it? It’s wonderful!”

“I know what it is. Why are you, of all beings in Creation, watching this show? You never watch the telly. You’re being very modern at the moment. It’s not like you.” Crowley failed to see the allure of this particular program. On the other hand, Aziraphale looked positively giddy at the prospect of spending the day with it. 

“I think this production is rather fun.” Aziraphale said, looking quite comfortable situated on their Louis XV style settee. He had books nearby to read when there were commercial breaks, snacks and hot cocoa for when he got peckish, and heaps of blankets and pillows to get cozy in. 

Taking all this into account, Crowley was beginning to completely replan his day. Mostly it involved hours of cuddling, and him napping on his warm angel. 

“Fun? This?” Crowley said incredulously, resisting the urge to update the angel’s antiquated vocabulary. He did, however, began to edge in closer to the comfy looking angel. 

“Yes, they get so much of it wrong. It’s simply delightful, and I do so enjoy all the nice little stories that go along with the items. Some of them are quite lovely.” Aziraphale said, pretending to not notice Crowley gravitate over to him. 

“People waxing poetic about a piece of pottery shaped like an awkward potato handed down from their beloved, dearly departed Nan? You would.” Crowley sighed for his own personal dramatic effect, giving the angel a look that was far more besotted than actually annoyed around its edges. Giving up pretense, he settled in beside Aziraphale, squirming under the covers before sinking into the couch, and the angel’s natural curves. 

Not more than a hour later, Crowley found himself deeply invested, yelling at the TV, and throwing popcorn at the screen. “Are you completely mad!? $20,000 for that ceramic rubbish?”

“I don’t think it’s all that terrible.” Aziraphale admonished, though he didn’t particularly care for the piece either. Boldly ignoring ‘less is more’, a small white case that had been liberally decorated with too many flowers, painted on and molded, and busy with gold. 

“Are they blind?!” Crowley growled, “Even worse, that complete knob is claiming that he’s as expert in art from the 1700’s. That vase is clearly Rococo, not Baroque. It’s clear as day in the happy little flower bits on it.”

“How do you know that?” Was the question that made both occult and ethereal beings jump. 

“Adam, we’ve talked about this. At the very least, ring one of us up before you decide to pop in.” Aziraphale recovered first. 

“We won’t always be here.” Crowley added, but moved over anyway to make room for their wayward godchild. “And if we are, you might get a life lesson best left to your parents explaining on their time.”

“Yeah, I know, but I knew you both were in because I could hear Crowley yelling at the telly from outside so I knew you weren’t doing anything important or grownup.” Adam said, plopping himself down on the couch beside his recently adopted godfathers. “That, and Crowley shouts differently when you’re having sex.”

“Oh good Lord.” Aziraphale sighed while Crowley turned a very interesting shade of red that bordered on puce. It looked terrible with his hair color. Dog considered hopping up too until he noticed the angel’s menacing side eye. 

“So how did you know about the vase?” Adam asked Crowley, like the demon was trying not to discorporate from sheer embarrassment, and the antichrist’s cheerfully causal nonchalantness. 

“I was in France at the time when things were getting very posh. I just nudged the fashion further into unnecessary opulence.” Crowley decided it was perfectly alright for him to withdraw...because he wasn’t hiding...under the covers. The angel soon found himself covered in lengthy coils of snake.

“If it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it.” Aziraphale grinned, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Really, angel? Don’t act like you just came up with that.” Crowley grumbled at the angel from under the covers. 

“Have you done that a lot? Influenced things?” Adam said as he scooted in closer to Aziraphale. The angel had the kind of warmth that was easy to bask in, not too hot to make anyone uncomfortable, and his soft curves were made for cuddling. 

“Here and there. Not as much as you’re probably imagining so stop before you muck up something.” Crowley said, “Aziraphale has done his fair share too. The whole of Shropshire is one of his.”

“What about Manchester?”

“One of mine, I’m afraid.”

It should be noted that Adam looked up Shropshire out of curiosity, and ran across this assessment about it from The Guardian. It read ‘Autumn walking in this border area is fantastic, and the surrounding towns offer plenty of pubs, culture and, in nearby Ludlow, the region’s best restaurants’. That sounded about right to Adam, the review very Aziraphale shaped in content. 

“Oh jolly good, it’s one of those commercial breaks. I’ll go get us all some tea and more snacks.” Aziraphale said, extracting himself from under Adam and Crowley. Covering up Crowley to keep all that lovely warmth in, the angel puttered off to the kitchen, humming the show’s theme song. 

Aziraphale still wore too many layers in Crowley’s opinion, the angel wearing a version of his beloved coat in the form of a sweater wherever he resided. At the very least, he wore slippers in the house, daring even to go without socks. 

“Angel, no one acts happy about commercials. They’re not meant to inspire joy, and we can pause the telly whenever you’d like.” Crowley called after him, the snake put out about his coziness being disrupted. 

“Seems like a frivolous miracle to me.” Aziraphale tutted, making Crowley stare off in the angel’s direction.

“I can never tell if he’s doing that intentionally or not.” Crowley said more to himself than to Adam. Aziraphale wasn’t the most tech savvy being, but not because he lacked the intelligence to master it. He simply couldn’t be bothered, having an ‘if it’s not broke, why make a shiny metal version of it that needs upgrades, batteries, and flashing buttons’ kind of attitude. 

“Don’t you get bored?” Adam asked, making Crowley poke his head out from under the covers. “I mean, I get that you two are in love, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem very exciting, not like you are anyway.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to never judge, a thing you judge, whatever that thing is, by its looks?” Crowley countered. He was in love, but he wasn’t blind. One didn’t have to be a demon, or have supernatural abilities to pick up on general human confusion in regard to their contrasting appearances, or unique relationship. Aziraphale was mostly oblivious to it, the angel simply couldn’t be bother with such nonsense, but Crowley noticed every smirk, every judgmental glance, and every snide whisper sent out their way. Nasty little things happened to the people who dared to do so. 

“Do you mean a book?” Adam offered.

“Books! Yes, books and covers! That’s it.” Crowley said, getting back on track. 

“Okay, so what about them?”

“I’ve been on this rock for over 6,000 years, and I’m telling you that the most fun I’ve ever had in all that time was due to Aziraphale.” Crowley, thinking all the way back to Eden. “I would have given up on you lot ages ago if it weren’t for that angel.”

4004 BC EDEN

The Garden was in its last days before it became really apart of the rest. Eventually, its high walls would crumble, the deserts surrounding it would shift. The Garden of Eden would either be consumed by the desert, drowned by water, or blended into an invading forest. 

Crawley was taking his time leaving it. He had decided to stay up on Earth, leaving Hell to figure out the finer details of itself without his presence or input. He saw the angel from time to time, Aziraphale still in the Garden as well, waiting for reassignment. The angel didn’t seem to be in any hurry to return to Heaven either. 

They had that in common, neither of them knowing if they had done the right thing, or the wrong thing. In Crawley’s opinion, it appeared they had both come to the same unspoken decision of staying quiet about their mistakes until someone took notice, which hopefully would be never. 

Having nothing else to do until then, Crawley liked to follow the angel around in snake form so that he could spy on Aziraphale as the angel explored the empty Garden of Eden.

The demon observed that Aziraphale had a curiosity that was unusual for an angel. For one thing, it seemed like he wanted to touch everything, running his hands over rocks and tree trucks, rubbing flower petals between his fingertips, or dipping his feet into mud, and little pools of water full of tiny fish that would nibble on his toes.

Aziraphale would follow the bees and other creatures to the edible things in the Garden, sampling what the Earth had to offer. It amazed Crowley what the angel was willing to put in his mouth. Pears had been a grand success. Berries had been a mixed bag, ranging from ‘scrumptious’ to ‘oh drat, poisonous’. It was decided grass was best left other creatures who would appreciate it. Radishes were met with a sad heavy little sigh. 

“They look so similar to apples, but taste like crisp dirt. How disappointing.” Had been Aziraphale’s overheard assessment about them. Crawley believed him. He had watched Aziraphale sample various kinds of dirt before he decided that’s not what his tastebuds were meant to be experiencing.

At some point, Crawley lost track of the angel, the demon falling asleep by accident on a sun warmed rock. He found Aziraphale easily enough though, following the angel’s laughter to a waterfall. What Crawley was not expecting was Aziraphale to come flying over the edge of said waterfall to fall into the pool of water below. His wings were out the whole time, confusing Crowley even more. Why hadn’t the angel just flown instead of falling? In his experience, it wasn’t that enjoyable, but Aziraphale also wasn’t free-falling a million miles an hour into a boiling lake of sulphur either.

Aziraphale was fine, of course, the angel bobbing up to the surface with another delighted laugh. Climbing out of the water with intent, he soon ran off again, giggling to himself. Before Crawley had time to wonder what the Hell that was all about, Aziraphale came flying over the edge again, landing with a huge splash, and a loud ‘Whoopee!’.

“Whatever are you doing?” Crawley asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he lost the scales in favor of feet. 

“Oh! You’re still here! I’ve got to show you this!” The sopping wet angel grinned at him, Aziraphale taking the demon’s hand. Crawley was so shocked by it that he let himself be led, his eyes never leaving off where they were connected. This stunned scrutiny only came to a halt when Aziraphale did, Crawley suddenly realizing that they now stood beside a fast stream a good distance away from where they had been.

“Bring out your wings. Good, good. Now fold them in front of you, like you would if you wanted to lay on them.” Aziraphale told him, still grinning about something. Not that Crawley was complaining. The angel’s smile was one of the loveliest things about him.

“I don’t. That’s bloody uncomfortable.” Crawley said, but did it anyway.

“That’s not what they’re there for. Here, just watch me.” Aziraphale said, doing just that with his own wings. He then jumped into the river, floating on top of the quick currents with his wings. “Wheeeeee!”

Catching on, Crowley quickly followed, jumping in after the angel. “Now what?”

The stream was turning into a river, picking up its pace as the water surged them forward. The waves tried to fling the angel and demon about, their wings protecting them as they were skipping across currents like flung stones.

“Here comes the best part! Remember to let yourself fall!” Aziraphale yelled over the din. The growing deafening noise could only be the waterfall, one that they were most definitely heading toward. 

As they both neared the edge, Crawley wondered what the hell was the point of all this. He did until the water spat the demon out over the edge after the angel. Resisting the urge to fly, Crawley experienced free fall for the first time that didn’t involve pain, or burning lakes of sulphur. There was just the rush of the wind that ended with a very satisfying splash into the cool water below. 

“Let’s do that again.” Crowley said as soon as it was physically possible.

“There are other waterfalls, bigger ones that are higher up. Want to give them a go?” Aziraphale grinned, making Crawley blink. The angel was simply stunning to behold in his gleeful excitement. He literally glowed with joy, the light of it soft and misty, coming off the angel’s skin in wisps.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Was all Crawley could manage out. A lot was lost from the Garden of Eden, but in that moment, it gained something new. There wasn’t a place the angel could go that Crawley would not follow. It was something that couldn’t be put into words just yet in his head, but deep down, Crawley’s heart had already made that vow. It would be one of many in regard to Aziraphale.

3004 BC ELSEWHERE IN MESOPOTAMIA 

The Ark and flood business all done with, the angel and demon decided that they were quite sick of rain so they both went looking for drier places. As ineffable plans would have it, they ended up in the same place, Crawley coming across the angel in a small desert settlement. Sitting under a palm tree, Aziraphale was staring off into the distance, and smiling to himself about something.

“Hello, Aziraphale! Fancy running into you again so soon.” Crawley said as he plopped himself down beside the angel. For some reason, it took a moment for the angel to realize he had company, and another minute more to entirely process the greeting.

“Crawley! You’re here! I’m so happy to see you!” Aziraphale slurred out his words with a silly grin. Crawley almost discorporated from shock when the angel followed up that sloppy greeting by throwing his arms around the demon. Crawley found himself being hugged close as Aziraphale buried his face in waves of long red hair. “Smell good.”

“Thank you? Happy? Why?” Crawley’s brain could manage little words, but was rapidly losing that capacity the longer Aziraphale clung to him. 

“Because I know what you did.” Aziraphale told his neck, the angel getting lost in the curls’ softness, and the demon’s natural scent of smoke, spice, and stardust.

“You do?” Crawley somehow achieved attaching two words. The angel smelled nice too. He felt even better. Crawley tried to remember the last time he had been hugged, or held onto for so long, and then gave up on that because the count was getting too depressing. 

The question made the angel release him. Crawley didn’t have time to be disappointed about it, the angel smushing his face with his hands.

“I do! I know about the kids, but shhhhhh.” Aziraphale said, releasing Crawley’s stunned face to clumsily place a finger to his lips before falling over. “Shhhhhh!” 

“Aziraphale, what the Hell is wrong with you?” Crawley asked as the angel remained on his back, giggling to himself about something.

“Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s wonderful!” Aziraphale said before suddenly popping back up. He reached over to a clay jug that Crawley had failed to notice. He poured something into a cup, passing it over to Crawley. “You can feel wonderful too!”

“What is it? Looks gross.” Crawley sniffed at the liquid. It didn’t look drinkable. It was brown with little bits of undesirable somethings floating in it. “Smells worse.”

“Fermentation!” Aziraphale said gleefully, helping himself to some more. “It’s delightful!”

“What?” 

“Just drink it, you silly serpent. I know it looks terrible, and tastes worst, but it makes you feel lovely.” Aziraphale slurred with a sweet dopey grin plastered across his face, the expression making Crawley grow warm all over. ‘I’ll definitely have what he’s having’ got invented very quickly that day.

It should be important to note that Aziraphale and Crowley discovered what hangovers were the next day, and invented ‘hair of the dog’ as a response to them.

1665 AD FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE 

“Never had much luck with horses. That, and they’re hard on the buttocks.” Crowley sighed in greeting to Aziraphale, the two meeting up in an open field, not too far from the road that Crowley needed to be on an hour ago. The demon had called upon the angel for a favor, the Arrangement working out well for them both so far. 

For business, Crowley needed to travel to Italy with a group of merchants so riding a horse was a necessary evil if wanted he wanted to be the necessary evil for this assignment. Unfortunately, animals didn’t get along with Crowley due to what he was. 

Horses especially weren’t too keen about having a demon on their back, which was why Crowley called for a favor. The problem with horses through were that they were very big and heavy, and had all those legs with hooves at the end of them.

“That’s because you barely have any padding back there. If you ask me, it’s hardly the horse’s fault you don’t have a lot to work with.” Aziraphale chuckled, doing one last check on the saddlebags and such. He had agreed to travel with Crowley to thwart his wiles, of course, but really he just was going along to find more books, hence all the saddlebags. Italy was good for that sort of thing, plus it had excellent wine. 

“Well, no one asked you a damn thing about my padding, or lack there of. Are you giving me a ride, or not? Or do you plan on expanding further about my narrow behind’s lack of virtues?” Crowley grumped, “Where’s my horse?”

There was only one horse, but there was a whole lot of it, Crowley glaring up at the monster of a horse Aziraphale had somehow managed to find. It was a pure white Clydesdale stallion with a long silvery mane and tail that towered over them. Crowley wagered that falling off of it was not going to be fun, never mind the dinner plate sized hooves shod with iron that he would have to avoid. 

“We both know how well you get on with horses.” Aziraphale said, easily picking Crowley up to place him in the saddle. Neither demon or horse were happy about it. Crowley clung on for dear life as the stallion stomped its hooves in protest.

“Now, now, we’ve talked about this.” Aziraphale soothed, installing a sense of peace into the Clydesdale. It settled down, whinnying soft sweet nothings to the angel. 

Much to the demon’s ire, Aziraphale mounted the horse easily, the stallion as docile as a lamb for him. Crowley didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the angel did so behind the demon. Crowley was suddenly very aware of every inch of his back pressed up to Aziraphale’s chest, of his aforementioned narrow behind nestled in the plush cradle of Aziraphale’s thighs, the angel’s arms bracketing him as they took hold of the reigns. 

Crowley was suddenly very grateful for the seating arrangement, and not the other way around as he miracled away an Effort. He has a bad feeling that he was going to be doing that a lot this trip. 

“Giddy up, Petunia.” Aziraphale’s voice was too close, his words practically caressing Crowley’s ear.

“Petunia?” Crowley endeavored to make some part of his brain work so that he didn’t fall off the damn horse from shock. Not that the angel would ever allow that to happen 

“He likes being called that.” Aziraphale’s voice and breathe still too close for Crowley’s continued well being.

“Fair enough.” Crowley began, but then the horse began to pick up its pace. “Oi! Not too fast! I don’t want to go flying off this beast!”

“As if I would let that happen, my dear.” Aziraphale said, Crowley hearing the angel’s smile in his fond tone. Crowley was spared from discorporating because the horse decided to really take off, aiding in this by some celestial help from Aziraphale. If need be, Crowley knew that Petunia could run like this for days, and be perfectly fine. They would catch up to those ill fated merchants in no time at all.

Usually at this point, Crowley’s backside would be hitting the ground. This time was much different, Aziraphale keeping him safely in place. It was the first time Crowley actually got to enjoy the ride, the speed of it as the scenery flashed past them. It was exhilarating, the wind in his face, tearing at his hair. He decided right then and there that someone would have to invent something to achieve this kind of speed without involving horses. Going this fast was brilliant. 

1836 AD ENGLAND 

“What are those, and why are you handing me a pair of them?”

Bundled up for it in excessive layers, Crowley really didn’t care for winter, and this was going to be a cold one. He could already tell, feeling it in his scales. Aziraphale had invited him out though, so here he was, standing beside a frozen lake with the angel. 

“Ice skates. I got you a pair as well. I picked them up while I was in Holland. Have you ever been?” Aziraphale said, putting on his own pair, the demon following suit.

“Not anytime recently. I think I would have remembered foot knives.” Crowley said, inspecting the results. 

“Amsterdam is full of canals so when they freeze over, the locals simply strap these onto their feet, and go about their business. Aren’t they clever?” Aziraphale said, stumbling toward the ice. 

“Why are we though?” Crowley said as he made his own way over. It was a balancing act of epic proportion. 

“Because it will be fun.” Aziraphale before falling flat on his face, his feet going out from under him. 

“It looks riveting.” Crowley said dryly, “What’s so fun about strapping blades to your feet? Never mind I answering my own question...as long as you ignore original context.”

“It just takes a little practice.” Aziraphale was completely undaunted, the angel hauling himself up to give it another go. Crowley managed to get out on the ice, and then just stood there in a rigid position, unsure of how to move himself forward, but not wanting to fall either. After some trial and error, Aziraphale figured it all out, and was soon gliding across the ice. 

“Come along, dear! It’s easy once you get the hang of it.” Aziraphale said as he skated past a still frozen in place demon. 

“Oi! Let go!” Crowley yelped, the angel snagging hold of him in passing. The demon lurched forward, but never connected with the ice, one of Aziraphale’s arms around his waist while the other steadied him. 

“It’s alright. Just move with me. There’s a rhythm to it, like dancing.” Aziraphale said, his voice near Crowley’s ear. Suddenly, Crowley wasn’t cold at all. 

“It’s to my understanding that angels don’t dance.” Crowley choked out as they glided across the ice, the demon following the angel’s lead. He had millennia of practice in doing so. 

1945 AD RUSSIA

“Strange place to have a symphony.” Crowley commented, the presentation taking place in an open field between two churches. He reasoned out that it must be some ode to the military, several canons dotting the field to flank the orchestra, but with Russians, who really knew?

Aziraphale was very excited about something, but he was trying hard not to show it. Unfortunately for the celestial being, whenever the angel got too happy or excited by something, little miracles tended to slip out all around him. Crowley glared at some trees who were spontaneously blooming out of season. He ordered them to behave with a hiss. 

All and all, it had been a nice piece of music in Crowley’s opinion, but he couldn’t tell if it was ending anytime soon or not. The music just kept building. The tension amping up as well, the conductor was practically driving the musicians into a frenzy. What was even more worrisome was that the canons were being loaded as a flurry of chuch bells began to ring.

“What’s all this?” Crowley managed to asked before the sympathy hit its crescendo. It was then Crowley remembered Tchaikovsky, the absolute madman of an composer, had added canons and neighboring church bells in as an instrument. The demon had never seen a live performance of it though. He thoroughly enjoyed the performance and the surprise of it. 

“Isn’t it stunning? I couldn’t resist when I read that they were doing a full performance of the piece on the anniversary of Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow.” Aziraphale beamed, quite pleased with himself that he had managed to surprise Crowley. 

“Didn’t he hate this piece?” Crowley wondered aloud. Tchaikovsky was in Hell with most of the other great composers, but Crowley wasn’t about to go down there to chat him up about it.

“Yes, poor fellow. Tchaikovsky was never one for extraordinary displays of patriotism, though he had quite the talent for creating them.” Aziraphale nodded, “So what do you want to do next?”

“Let’s see what’s all the fuss about this vodka stuff everyone here keeps downing like water.”

PRESENT

“So you see, Adam, Aziraphale loves a good time. Your run-of-the-mill angels weren’t made for that, for fun, weren’t made to even know what fun is. They were created to serve, and that’s mostly what they do. The whole lot are dreadfully boring, and when they’re not being bored, then they’re usually being wankers.” 

“Whose’s a wanker now, dear?” Aziraphale asked, the angel loaded down with bowls of popcorn and other goodies.

“Heaven. Hell. Same thing really.” Crowley reverting back so that he could take the tea from Aziraphale before one of them had to miracle away a spill. 

“Ah.” Aziraphale said, and left it at that as he perfectly made everyone’s cup for them. “I say, I do believe that is my dress. It’s missing the hoops, and the bottom half of it, but I know it is.”

“I’ve never seen you wear that.” Crowley said, squinting at the telly. The centuries old garment was in excellent shape, despite its age.

“Terrible shame too. I look lovely in an empire waist.” Aziraphale smiled softly at the memory of it. “The fashion of the 18th century was so charming.”

And it was a terrible shame to Crowley. The dress was actually a sack back robe, the opening in the front meant to frame a beautifully decorated underskirt. The white dress was made from painted silk, someone with a deft hand and considerably skill making the flowers bloom off the fabric with such striking colors. In the back, box pleats ran down from the shoulders, giving the impression of wings. 

“Where the hell was I when you were in that?” Crowley demanded. Angels and demons were sexless unless they made an effort. Crowley loved to swim in gender. Aziraphale could hardly be bothered to dip a toe in it though, so it was a rare thing to ever see him female presenting. It was a real treat for Crowley when he did though. 

“Not sure. Can’t recall exactly. I think you were off the East somewhere. You brought me back some of that lovely tea we can barely find anymore. Most of the monks who knew how to make it are dead. Shame really.” Aziraphale told Adam.

“Mmmm...maybe we should pop back over there for a bit then.” Crowley said, “Can’t have one of your favorite teas disappearing off the face of the Earth on you.”

“Can I come along?” Adam

“It’s ‘may I come along’, and only your parents are alright with it.” Aziraphale said after considering it for a moment, the demon and angel having a quick eye conversation about it over Adam’s head that ended with a shrug. “Then I don’t see why not.”

“Oh, they will be.” Adam said with a confidence that worried both angel and demon until both were distracted by the show.

“$40,000 pounds? For my old dress? That’s fantastic. I’m so happy for that grandmother.” Aziraphale wiggled, clapping his hands. The expert was going on about how the dress was, indeed, an incredibly rare survivor of its genre, that museums would be fighting over it for their collections. No one knew the real reason for that was because it had once belonged to an angel who had loved wearing it, and blessed it when he gave it away. 

“And just how did she come into possession of it? You’re a hoarding pro.” Crowley asked, still disappointed that he had missed out on the dress. 

“Hush, I am not.” Aziraphale pouted a little at his counterpart, though he knew deep down that the demon was a little right.

“How many books have you sold in the last two hundred years? I believe the number is still in single digits? Do correct me if I’m wrong.” Crowley grinned, knowing he had won this round.

“I’ll have you know, I gave it away to a lovely young girl who wanted to get married, but was too poor to buy a proper dress for the occasion.” Aziraphale pointedly ignored the demon’s book inquires. “I only wore it once for a party, and then had no more use for it afterward. It was much too pretty to hide away though. Apparently, she took excellent care of it.”

“Are your clothes not real then?” Adam asked Crowley, poking the demon who squirmed over and away until the angel was firmly between them. Crowley thought it wouldn’t do if the former Antichrist found out he was ticklish. Being ticklish wasn’t cool, and Crowley had an image to maintain. He had to give it to Adam though. The kid was quick. 

“Most of mine aren’t. Most of his are, though angel has settled on his current look for the last 100 years or so.” Crowley teased. 

“Tartan is stylish.” Aziraphale said, refusing to rise up for the bait as he spiffed up his tie, not that he needed to. “And everything old becomes new again anyway.”

“So what? You’re just planning on waiting it out then?” 

“Precisely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments snuggle up with the angel, and get glared at by the demon. Your kudos are noticed by Adam. Oh dear...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock joins the gang!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did a ton of research for this so you all about to learn something.

“Crowley’s out in the garden, my dear boy.” Aziraphale greeted as Adam let himself in, Dog trotting in to go straight to his soft bed in Adam’s room. 

The angel was in one of the studies, most of his attention focused on what was strewed across a table Adam didn’t remember existing before. When he thought about it, this study seemed new as well. 

One of the perks of having an angel and a demon for godfathers was that their cottage was always changing, seeming bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. 

“I know. He working over the herbs right now.” Adam said, taking a nearby seat to peek in on what the angel was actually doing. It wasn’t anything that had to do with a book for once, which was a rare thing. “I don’t think my Mum would much care for me learning all the bad words in one go.”

“That would be the mint again. Its got him in such a twist. I’ve come to believe that it’s about as stubborn as Crowley is.” Aziraphale sighed, unperturbed by the racket going on outside as he continued to sort parts and pieces into little piles that only made sense to him. 

“All that for mint?” Adam wincing at a very colorful turn of phrase, one that would have made his human father’s ears turn bright red before grounding Adam for a week, cut through the air.

“It keeps trying to invade the other flowerbeds. It was being a right bully to the poor chives for a time before Crowley intervened.” Aziraphale said, obviously expecting Adam to lose interest before wandering off.

Expect he didn’t.

“Was there something I can do for you?” Aziraphale paused, looking over to study his odd, self-appointed godson. 

“Nope.” Adam said, “I was just wondering what you were working on.”

“I was cleaning out some of my storage from above the bookshop. Anathema and Newt needed the room, and I’ve been meaning to sort it all out for a while now.” Aziraphale’s version of ‘for a while now’ was in a solid three digits of putting off. “I found this, and decided to fix it up.”

“What is it?” Adam stared down what what he presumed at first was a clock of some sort. Clocks didn’t usually have yellow and red feathers in the mix of things though.

“It’s a pair of a caged mechanical birds made sometime in the 1900’s. I do believe that would make it Edwardian, but don’t quote me on that. They were a bit rare then, even more so now I would imagine.” Aziraphale explained, Adam noticing tools, and bottles of various cleaning solution neatly set out. There was also two small piles of cut up feathers, one pile being white and the other black. “Crowley gave it to me some time ago after the wars. I think he said he picked it up in Paris, but it got damaged a few decades ago later by some unattended children who knocked it off a high shelf.” 

“Why don’t you just?” Adam mimicked the angel’s signature snap. He wondered what happened to those children, or more importantly, their parents. Aziraphale’s books were one thing, but a gift from Crowley was an entirely different matter. Adam doubted that they had left the bookshop unscathed. 

It should be noted that they did not, though it was Crowley who made sure of that. The children of these parents received the most irritating toys for the rest of their youth. If it made an obnoxious high pitched repetitive sound, some relative would gift it to them. 

“Where would be the fun in that?” Aziraphale smiled, the weird little kind that suggested that he was being humorous. 

“I dunno. You’d have your birds back faster for one. That sounds fun to me.” Adam pointed out. 

“There is a certain pleasure that comes from properly putting things back together.”

“Is that why you repair all your books the long way?” And Aziraphale did, Anathema and Newt living as caretakers of the bookshop now. They were both just as bad as Aziraphale about selling books, but in their own unique ways. Anathema tended to unnerve people with her direct stares and ominous fortunes telling, and Newt was generally so unhelpful that people just got too frustrated to continue shopping there so they ended up leaving empty handed. 

Books from all over the world in need of repair were sent directly to Aziraphale now via Anathema, his well earned reputation legendary among the profession and collectors alike. Unsurprisingly, old bibles were his specialty. 

“Indeed.” Aziraphale nodded, “There are some things you can’t rush.”

“Can I watch?”

“I’m afraid that what I am doing is not terribly riveting. Wouldn’t you rather go see what Crowley is up to? He’s the exciting one.” Aziraphale said as he started to clean and polish some of the more delicate parts with a lint free clothe and his own recipe of cleaning solution, inspecting them for damage. 

“He’s just yelling at plants. You’re about to make a pile of junk into something wonderful. I’d say you’re the exciting one.” Adam said, making the angel leave off his cleaning to stare at the boy. “Can I help? That doesn’t look too hard. I promise to be careful.”

Part of the fun of being himself was that Adam tended to notice things that others didn’t, or chose not to. For example, one of those overlooked things was that Aziraphale didn’t excepted to be liked by others. It had taken Adam a while to see it, to place it. Aziraphale always held a gentle surprise within his being that came when anyone continued to talk to the angel, or give him any sort of attention past polite necessities. 

“It’s not, at least at this point. You do have to be gentle. These parts are delicate.” Aziraphale came back to life. Looking over his tools, he selected a soft toothed brush, and a few pieces of sharpened pegwood of various widths. “When I’m done cleaning them, gently brush them off. If you need to, use the pegwood’s point to clean out any nooks or crannies of leftover grime.”

The pair worked in relative silence, the quiet of which was only occasionally marred by curses and other foul language from Crowley, the demon moving from the herbs to the fairly new orchard. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale interrupted the stream of threats coming from the back. 

“What?” Crowley yelled back.

“If you make those pears grow in sour, I will be cross with you.” Aziraphale told them demon, not bothering to look up from his work.

“They’re being unreasonable!” Crowley fumed, but decided to come inside to make tea for them all. 

“Very cross.” Aziraphale paused to shoot Crowley a look. 

“You’re being unreasonable.“ The demon muttered.

“I certainly didn’t have to create such a ruckus when I was a gardener.”

“You didn’t grow shit. You used miracles to keep that garden alive, and you know it.” Crowley snapped, emphasizing his point by pointing a spoon at the angel. 

“Tosh.” Aziraphale snorted. 

“You did! Don’t sit there, and act all high and mighty about it.”

“Did you ever see me use a miracle?” Aziraphale challenged, arching a brow at the demon. 

“I was too busy taking care of a baby, and then a toddler, and then an energetic small child to keep tabs on what you were using your miracles for.” Crowley said as he passed out the tea with a little milk with no sugar for Aziraphale, black as night and sweet as sin for Crowley, and copious amounts of cream and sugar in Adam’s cup. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

“Speak of the Devil.” Crowley said, answering his phone. 

“Let’s try not to, love.”

Adam noted that the demon’s voice and accents changed to something more feminine and Scottish before he took his leave of them. “Hello, dear. What is it? You sound upset.”

“Why do people think angels are fat babies with wings?” Adam asked, his attention back to the task at hand. Aziraphale was currently cleaning the base. It was heavy looking thing that was decorated with golden flowers that accented dancing silver angels, the fat baby kind with wings.

“Those would be the Putti.” Aziraphale sighed, looking suddenly rather put out about something. “It’s Italian, and it refers to the early classical Renaissance depiction of winged infants.”

“That still doesn’t explain why.”

“I’m getting to that. It’s all Crowley’s fault.” Aziraphale glared down at the dancing baby angels. “He was friends with a good number of artists from that time period, one of them being Donato di Niccolò di Betto Bardi, though you would probably only know him as Donatello.”

“Crowley was friends with a Ninja Turtle?” Adam wanted to see what Aziraphale would do with that.

“Those two words sound like they shouldn’t be together.” Aziraphale said finally, trying to decide if Adam was having him on. “I am going to go with no. Donatello was a very talented sculptor who lived in Florence in the early 1400’s. I’m fairly confidant that he didn’t have anything to do with turtles or ninjas.”

“What do fat angel baby art got to do with Crowley?”

“They got drunk one night, and that insidious demon got Donatello to believe that was what some angels actually looked like. Donatello was popular so, of course, others started to emulate the style. Eventually, the greatest artists of that time period were all painting fat baby angels. Raphael cemented this misrepresenting idea’s longevity of the cherub.”

Adam admirably refrained from making another Ninja Turtle joke. He focused on brushing the parts, and getting the ick out of them. “Are cherubs real?”

“Well, here’s the thing. The Cherubim are most definitely real, but are nothing like what humans have come to believe. The distinction between the Putti and the Cherubim have been blurred by modern english.” 

“So no fat flying babies.”

“No, just pissed off giant angels made of various animal parts with four faces and four conjoined wings covered in eyes.”

“They sound awful, or amazing. I can’t decide which. What do they do?”

“They guard the throne of God.”

“That’s it?”

“Afraid so, dear boy.”

Aziraphale passed off the last piece, starting in on restoring the birds. He stripped them of their rotting feathers, cleaning them off with a lint free clothe and some solution, and applied something from a small container that smelled like some sort of homemade glue. Aziraphale then started to meticulously apply the feathers to the cleaned up little metal bodies until they practically looked alive. 

“He plans to do what to you?! Nanny’s on her way!” Crowley all but roared into his phone as he stormed out from the back, and through the kitchen to angrily hang up.

“Was that Warlock, dear?” Aziraphale spoke far more calmly. 

“How many children do you think I’ve nannied?” 

“You have such a knack for it. I didn’t want to assume you’d never take it up again.”

“Well, I haven’t.” Crowley growled, “I’ll be back!“

“Everything all right with Warlock?” Aziraphale called after the demon.

“No! Yessss! We’ll be round soon. I’ll explain when we get back.” Crowley said, switching up her form, gender, and wardrobe to go collect Warlock from wherever the lad was. She looped back to kiss her angel goodbye. “Good job on the birds, by the way. Using our feathers is a nice touch.”

“Thank you, love. We’ll be here when you and Warlock get back. Mind how you go, darling.” Aziraphale titled his head up to accept Crowley’s parting kiss. 

“Warlock was fake me.” Adam said as the birds and their cages was reassembled. 

“Warlock is his own real person, but yes, we did mistake him for being the Antichrist.” Aziraphale said as he reattached the birds to their perch, and finished assembling it. “What do you think?”

“I think we should turn it on.”

“Here we go.” Aziraphale wound it up, and turned it on. Adam and the angel was greeted with sharp high pitched tweeting. While it did sound somewhat like a pair of birds, they didn’t find it pleasant to listen to.

“That’s enough of that.” Aziraphale made a face at it. “No wonder you were up on a shelf.”

“Do you still talk to him?” Something was bothering Adam, an odd feeling he couldn’t quite name yet. 

“Crowley and I did raise the boy for almost a decade, or at least, Crowley did most of the real legwork for it. I was just the gardener. It’s not quite the same relationship a child would have with his caregiver.” Aziraphale said, “Crowley and Warlock still text one another.”

“Do you have a phone?” Adam asked. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the angel with a phone in hand.

“Yes, of course. It’s right over there.” Aziraphale nodded in the direction of a style of phone Adam had only seen in old television shows and movies.

“No. I mean like a real phone.”

“Last time I checked that is a real phone.” Aziraphale obviously enjoying himself a little too much. Adam noticed the angel did that from time to time. Crowley referred to it, usually through gritted teeth, as Aziraphale’s ‘greetings, fellow normal human’ act. 

“You know what I mean.”

“If you are inquiring about me owning a mobile cellular device, then yes, I do.” Aziraphale relented, a bit. “Somewhere around here.”

“Why don’t you ever use it?”

“I mostly only talk to Crowley, and now that we live together, that’s really cut out the middleman, such as a mobile cellular phone.” Aziraphale beamed at the thought of his demon and their current arrangement, making minor miracles caused by his happiness happen all around them. Adam watched with interest as his steadily growing tepid tea turned into a steaming cup of rich cocoa with all the trimmings. “I certainly don’t want anyone looking to purchase a book able to get a hold of me. Besides that, Madame Tracy, Anathema, and I exchange the loviest letters so there’s really no need for it.”

“You could talk about books with a lot of people who love them just as much as you do, and they wouldn’t try to buy them from you.”

“How would I do that?” Despite himself, Aziraphale’s interest was peaked. 

You can make a little video about whatever you want, and put it up.” Adam said, “Or you could blog about it, give reviews on books.”

“Put it up where? Why would I want to blog? That sounds vile.”

“It’s really not, and you can put it up wherever you like. There’s Twitter, Snapchat, Tumblr, Reddit...”

“Adam, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are those places, or things?” Aziraphale shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy. There’s a little camera on the phone.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“It can take videos as well as pictures. I could take a video of you right now.”

“Who would want to watch me put back together rubbish, or fix a book?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve had enough surprises to last me for a few centuries.” Aziraphale said, but still summoned up his phone to hand over to Adam.

“No wonder you don’t like it. It’s boring. You need to customize it.” Adam said, looking over the plain white phone. 

“Customize it? How?”

“You could get a different case for it, stickers, or jewelry and charms, oh, and a pop socket.”

“Pop socket? That can’t possibly be a real thing. You’ve made it up.”

“Nope. It helps to keep the phone from slipping out of your hand, and you can also use it as a prop stand if you want to watch something on your phone.” Adam told him, using his own phone to pull up some things to show the angel. 

“Good Lord, there are so many to choose from. Bless, they even have tartan!”

“You can have more than one case. They’re like clothing for your phone.” Adam said, Aziraphale beginning to look overwhelmed. That analogy clicked with the angel though, his interest renewed tenfold. 

“How extraordinary.” Aziraphale soon snapping a sizable stack of decorative cases and other things to go along with said cases. “Now what are you doing?”

“Getting your contacts updated.” Adam made a face, taking a pic with Aziraphale’s phone before selecting it. He spent the next few minutes sending pictures of all the humans Aziraphale knew to his phone, assigning them to the proper contacts. 

“That is so clever. You’ve paired little pictures with everyone. That’s a rather nice one of Crowley.”

“You think all pictures of Crowley are nice.” Adam laughed. Nothing could be more true. 

“They are!”

“You’re turn.”

“My turn for what?” 

“You have to take a funny face pic with my phone to be your avatar.” Adam explained. 

“What constitutes as a funny face? Should I wear makeup?” Aziraphale began to overthink it.

“No, well, you can if you really want to.” Adam said, “Um, just stick out your tongue. Now cross your eyes while you do that, all at the same time.”

“Perfect.” Adam was already planning on teasing Crowley mercilessly with the pic. Aziraphale had only stuck the very tip of his tongue out while crossing his eyes, all while doing his best, and looking quite concerned about it, and it showed.

They were just deciding what to make for dinner when Crowley returned with a boy who looked Adam’s age of twelve. He had long dark hair that hung past his shoulders, and bright blue eyes. 

“So you’re the real one.” Warlock said in way of greeting. It was more of a statement than a question. “You’re the real Antichrist.”

“YOU KNEW!” Crowley all but shouted, earning her a disdainful look from Warlock.

“You‘ve known this whole time?” Aziraphale inquired far more calmly than the demon.

“That you two aren’t human? Yeah. It wasn’t hard to figure out. You should look into Google. It will change your life.” Warlock smirked. 

“How long have you known?” Crowley asked, not fully over being gobsmacked, but she was getting there. 

“I dunno. Forever.” Warlock sighed, “Nanny, you would grow scales over your skin when you napped.”

“I was tired! Raising a child isn’t easy.” Crowley said before Aziraphale could turn to start in on her. 

“And Brother Francis would snap things back to life whenever anything died.” Which made Aziraphale take on his feigned innocent look, much like a cat who had knocked something expensive over somewhere. 

“What died in the garden?” Crowley jumped on that, Aziraphale doing his best to not appear uneasy. 

“A lot of plants,” Warlock paused, Crowley beginning to make a high pitched tea kettle like noise as she turned to point at the blushing angel, “But mostly roses.”

“I KNEW IT!” Crowley laughed manically in triumph. “I fucking knew it! You owe me a bottle of scotch, you lying rubbish gardener.”

“Bugger.” Aziraphale muttered, “And I didn’t lie about anything.”

“Oh really? How’d you figure that?” The Creator of Original Sin asked the First Liar.

“This isn’t about the here or there. This is about Warlock. Can we focus on the more important matter at hand?” Aziraphale expertly diverted. 

“And the fact you’d both shape-shift into different version of yourselves.” Warlock continued as the demon and angel made a series of faces at each other while fingers were wagged and pointed. “There were also the wings. Giant wings. It wasn’t all that hard to figure the rest out, especially when you both kept going on about the end of the world. Are you planning on staying like that Nanny?”

“Like what?”

“I know you can change. What do you usually look like?”

“I always look like myself.” Crowley grinned, but changed back to what the demon had been wearing before they left. “Sometimes I have a cunt, sometimes I have a cock, and then other times, it’s complicated.”

“Wicked.” Warlock breathed out in astonishment. 

“Warlock, it’s always lovely to see you, dear, but why are you here?“ Aziraphale completely left off their tiff to have Crowley fume at his back. 

“They were going to...” Warlock deflated, posturing and cockiness taking leave of him in an instant. “So I called Nanny. I didn’t know what else to do. No one was listening to me.”

“They were going to send him to a conversion therapy camp.” Crowley bit out for Warlock instead, the demon looking ready to spit poison.

“Oh. Oh, dear. Warlock, darling, are you all right? Does something need to be done to other people?” Aziraphale asked in the way that only an angel could, his words heavy with deeper meaning.

“I’m fine. I called Nanny as soon as I found out. Overheard Mom and Dad arguing about it.” Warlock shook his head, doing his best not to cry. It wasn’t working, cheeks getting wetter with every passing moment. 

“What do you want to do?” Aziraphale asked them both.

“Warlock’s not going back to them.” Crowley snapped, moving to stand beside Warlock like the child was about to be plucked from his side. 

“Obviously, if he doesn’t want to.” Aziraphale nodded.

“They.” Crowley corrected. “Warlock is a they/them now.”

“My apologies, dear ones. I stand corrected. If they don’t want to return, then Warlock is welcome here.”

“I don’t want to!” Warlock said, a little too quickly, a little too loudly. The rest of their bravado fell away to reveal a very scared, desperate child. “Please? Please don’t make me go back!”

“You may stay here as long you need, and for as long as you want.” Aziraphale said in a heartbreaking gentle tone. Like their strings had been jerked and cut, Warlock turned to fall into Crowley’s arms. The demon held the sobbing child tight as Warlock cried out complicated feelings. 

“Let’s give them space, dear one.” Aziraphale said softly to Adam who nodded in return, following the angel into the kitchen. Adam really liked his godparent’s kitchen, the space the perfect balance of each other’s aesthetics. Terribly modern appliances sat on warm honey colored wood counters backed by beautiful floral wall paper that Crowley constantly teased Aziraphale about. The angel didn’t mind though, having chosen the print for the demon after noticing how Crowley’s eyes had lingered over the cheerful pink and blue blossom design. 

“They’ll need a moment. I may not be the most interesting being to be around,” Aziraphale started to say. 

“Crowley seems to think you’re more than interesting, and I think he’s an excellent judge of character.” Adam cut that short, meaning every word of it. 

Crowley was great and all, but Aziraphale came full of stories, brilliant epic stories, a millennia old dragon’s horde of them. Crowley had stories too, of course. It was hard not to when one considered how old they were, but Aziraphale went out of his way to learn and collect every tale in creation ever told, not just his own. That was another thing that was overlooked about it Aziraphale. 

“Tell me something about...tigers!” Adam decided. He had learned that if one asked Aziraphale to tell them a story, the angel would dam up, saying it was quite beyond his capabilities. Adam had come to realize though if one just gave Aziraphale an uncomplicated topic to ramble on about at his own pace, the floodgates would open. 

“Tigers? What about them?” Aziraphale said, wondering why Adam had a sudden interest in them. He worried for a space about that. 

“I dunno. You tell me.” Adam shrugged.

“Nothing particularly springs to mind.” Aziraphale mused, “Gosh, I haven’t even really thought about tigers since my last real stay in China. That was some time ago in the late 1200’s.”  
“Yeah?” Adam gave more of a platform for the angel to perform on. “Why’s that?”  
“At first, I was there for an assignment, but I decided to stay for the tea. Oh, and the food. In the village I was staying at, they were using the most wonderful spice blends in everything.” Aziraphale sighed, missing dumpling that’s hadn’t been around in over eight hundred years. “It was there I saved Crowley from a tiger once. Silly snake got thrown from a elephant of all things. I still don’t know how he managed to do that. Anyway, off he went into the brush, and then he promptly got lost. Instead of returning to the caravan, Crowley ended up deep in the jungle.”  
“Why didn’t he just?” Adam mimicked a snap.  
“Oh, any number of reason. His miracles might have been being audited at the time, pure stubbornness, or he could have simply forgot he could.”  
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Adam nodded sagely back.  
“Tiger are revered in China. They are seen as the embodiment of Yang, the universal positive energy. The King of the Mountain symbolized many things to do with the sun, summer, and good luck.”  
“How did you save Crowley?” Adam gently nudged them back on track.  
“In India, for a time, they tried wearing masks on the back of their head to fool tigers. By doing so, they were hoping to prevent a tiger from having a go at their spine.” Aziraphale was not so easily nudged. Crowley could solidly vouch for that. “It didn’t work, of course, tigers cleverer than that.”  
“Did Crowley try that?”  
“What? No, don’t be silly. He stumbled upon a cub, and the mother reacted. They’re very protective of their young. Crowley is very lucky that he can run so fast. I found him up in a tree with a very angry tiger circling it. I made him promise to buy me lunch if I sent the tiger away.” Aziraphale wiggled happily at the memory of it. Despite the tiger, it had been a very good day. Lunch had turned into drinking lots of sake, lounging around in some natural hot springs, a sumptuous dinner, and then a late night at a bathhouse that catered to their kind, spirits, gods, and the Others. “Did you know he is absolutely terrible with any animal that isn’t a snake?”  
“I do now.” Adam beamed. The angel failed to noticed, too busy recounting his story.  
“Oh, he’s abysmal with them. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a horse throw him. We had a time and a half on the Ark because of it, believe you me.”  
“You were on the Ark?”  
“Supervised Noah and his family the entire way, from building the Ark to finding land after forty days and forty nights of the most abysmal weather” Aziraphale puffed up in his version of a brag.  
“Did Crowley have to as well? Stay on the Ark for work?”  
“No, but she, Crowley was female at the time, did save a lot of children and the unicorns. We ended up together on the Ark more or less by accident for the duration of it though.”  
“Unicorns are real?!” Adam wanted to know how one ‘accidentally’ ended up on the Ark, but unicorns took precedence over that.  
“Yes, of course, they are.” Aziraphale said, “We, Crowley and I...well, mostly me on that end, just hid them well is all.”  
“Why?”  
“Because some beauty in this world needs to be protected from time to time. Human carelessness almost allowed for their extinction.“ Aziraphale said.  
“Are they all dead now, or something?”  
“How morbid. Of course not.” Aziraphale said, getting up to change out of his house slippers for shoes. “Come along, my dear boy.”  
“Where are we going?”  
“To see the unicorns. There is a small blessing of them not too far from here.”  
“But what about...” Adam gestured vaguely behind them. He whistled for Dog, the hellhound appearing by his side to yawn up at him.  
“They’ll be fine. Also, Crowley doesn’t much care for unicorns, and I don’t think Warlock will care much about anything at the moment. The poor dear has had a long day.” Aziraphale said, leading the way into the great expanse woods that lay all around the cottage. “Me being an angel attracts them to the cottage. I am thrilled to say that a little neighboring blessing has decided to adopt us.”  
“Why are you calling them that?”  
“Calling them what?”  
“A blessing. Is that an angel thing?”  
“No, it’s actually a very human thing to do.” Aziraphale laughed, causing the nearby trees to suddenly bloom. “Humans like giving names to things. A blessing is the name for a grouping of unicorns, much like how you would call a grouping of cows a herd.”  
“Do dragons have a name for their groupings?” Adam asked, accepting a stick from Dog to chuck it back in the woods for the hellhound to fetch.  
“With or without riders?” Aziraphale responded with a sly twinkle in his eye. He didn’t make Adam work for it this time. “Dragons with riders are called a Weyr. A group of dragons found in the wild are called a Thunder, but that was a very rare thing even when dragons existed in abundance. They tend to be solitary creatures.”  
“Dragons are real too?!” Adam’s world immediately got bigger.  
“Oh yes, quite.” Aziraphale answered, and then remembered who he was talking to. “But they’re aren’t many left, and none currently exist in England.” He added quickly.  
“What happened to them?”  
“The Earth changed as it does. Their time came and went. You never know though. Everything old tends to become new again.”  
“If it’s a pack of dogs, what is it for cats?” Adam noticed Dog pausing to stare up at the angel. The hellhound had a vested interest in cats.  
“It’s a clowder or a glaring for domestic cats. It’s a kindle of kittens, and a group of feral cats is called a destruction.” Aziraphale said, Dog yipping in agreement to the last one.  
“Do you have any favorites?”  
“I have always been fond of a murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens, a parliament of owls, and a pandemonium of parrots.” Aziraphale smiled, “They roll nicely off the tongue, don’t you think?  
“Those are all birds.” Was what Adam took away from that.  
“I like birds.”  
“Is it because you all have wings?” Adam guessed, “It is! How come you don’t fly more?”  
“We couldn’t exactly keep a low profile if Crowley and I were winging it about everywhere.”  
“You’re not exactly keeping a low profile now.” Adam pointed over his shoulder behind them. Their walk was marked by blossoms that hadn’t been there before, and we’re definitely out of season. “At least the others will be able to easily find us.”  
“Yes, well, you’re you so I can be more myself.”  
“Shouldn’t your wings be out then?”  
“I really shouldn’t.”  
“But we’re in the middle of the woods that you and Crowley warded off, on our way see unicorns. Why wouldn’t you? If I had wings, I’d have them out any chance I got.”  
“You make a very convincing argument.” Aziraphale said, allowing his wings to slip out of the Between, a space of reality where such things were hidden. He gave them a good shake, sending loose feathers everywhere. “Oh dear...I’ll have to have Crowley groom them when I get back.”  
Snapping a bag into existence, Aziraphale made a gesture that sent all the loose feathers flying into it. “There we are.”  
“Can I have one?”  
“Adam, it would be very dangerous for you to have one of our feathers.” Aziraphale said, pulling an especially lovely flight feather out of the bag for Adam to examine. “For one thing, they’re not real feathers, not in the Earthly sense anyway. You may touch it, but don’t go against the grain.”  
“It’s so warm. What would happen if I went the other way?”  
“You would cut your fingers clean off your hand before you’d be able to stop yourself.” Was said in a stern tone of voice that brooked no nonsense.  
“They’re that sharp? It doesn’t look sharp.” Adam wasn’t compelled to disobey the angel. He quite liked his fingers where they were, but the feather didn’t look like it could cut anything.  
“An angel‘s wings is their greatest defense, but also our greatest offense.” Aziraphale said as he snapped a boulder into existence. It was promptly sliced apart into multiple smaller pieces, Aziraphale flexing his wings through it like the rock was made of smoke instead of granite.  
“That’s brilliant! I have the coolest godfathers.” Adam beamed, Aziraphale removing what was left of the boulder.  
“Yes, quite. Come, come. Let’s be on our way. Can’t keep the unicorns waiting all day.” Aziraphale said, unused to such praise.  
They found the blessing of unicorns, all five of them, drinking from the clearest pond Adam had ever seen in his life. It also had a glowing golden tinge to it. Dog promptly tried to chase after the unicorns, the beasts of myth and legend eyeing the little dog with distain down their noses.  
“Dog! Sit!” Adam ordering in time before his hellhound got skewered. “And stay out of the water. It’s a funny color...and glowing. That can’t be healthy for you.”  
“That’s from the unicorns living near it, and drinking from it. When they do, their horns inadvertently get dipped into the water, making it pure while giving it healing properties.”  
“Does mean I can run my finger the other way down the feather?” Adam asked with a cheeky grin.  
“You’re incorrigible.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he took a seat on a suddenly existing chair that looked completely out of place in the woods. Adam took a seat in the other one. There was a small table in the middle of them, with a bowl full of shiny green and red apples.  
“What do we do now?”  
“We will be patient, and allow the unicorns decide on their own if they’d like to join us.” Aziraphale said as he allowed more of his true nature to come out into the open. It had two effects, one being that his halo came into view as multiple eyes began to open on his face and down his neck. The other was that all sorts of animals began to come out of the woodwork.  
It started off small, just a few birds landing on Aziraphale’s wings to use them as a perch. Hedgehogs and mice trickled out of the woods to sit at their feet.  
“Dog, you need to behave. You can’t chase any of these animals either.” Adam warned to answering canine grumbles of unfairness.  
Hares and a scurry of squirrels made a nuisance of themselves, enough so that Aziraphale scolded them into being tolerable. An old badger trotted up to them next, followed by a pair of young foxes. Several deer soon emerged from the deep green, a grey horse trailing after them.  
“Oh dear, where did you come from? Are you lost?” Aziraphale asked the horse who whinnied in answer. “My mistake. That’s very nice of you to take care of the deer like that.”  
“You can talk to animals?” Adam said as he sliced up the apples with his pocketknife, feeding them to any animal that was interested. He had a lot of takers. Apparently, England’s wildlife enjoyed apples.  
“Of course I can. I’m an angel.” Aziraphale said, cut short by the unicorns who had finally deigned to come over. They were trying to nibble on the angel’s hair and clothing. “I do have apples. I promise they are far more tastier than what you’re currently chomping down on.”  
While the unicorns crowded Aziraphale, they did their damnedest to avoid Adam.  
“They don’t want to come near me because of what I am.” Adam said, feeding his apple to the horse instead.  
“Used to be.”  
“Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. It’s not all gone.” Adam’s expression daring the angel to lie to him.  
“Adam...is that the real reason that you wanted Crowley and I to be your godparents?”  
“I’m scared.” Adam admitted, looking down at his hands. They were soon covered with the angel’s own. They were good hands, soft yet callused in strange places, and immaculately manicured. Adam looked up into many eyes of varying shades of blue, and felt seen.  
“It’s not a bad thing to be scared. It’s how you decide it affects you that truly matters. You didn’t hide from it, or ignore it, or lash out. Instead, you sought out possibly the only two beings in creation who could help you if everything in your life suddenly went pear shaped. There’s no shame in that. It was a very smart thing to do.” Aziraphale said gently, making Adam wonder how anyone could mistake the angel for being human. He wasn’t beautiful in the human sense, but more like how sunlight filtered through trees surrounded by mist, or snow falling in the ocean in the dead of night.  
“It’s also pretty cool to hang out with a demon and an angel. There’s that too.” Adam sniffed, Aziraphale brushing away a stray tear or two for him.  
“I don’t know about being cool, but Crowley and I love you very much, and we’ll do anything in our powers to help and protect you. Never forget that.” Aziraphale told Adam who nodded back with a smile.  
“Have you two decided to start a zoo or something?” Crowley asked as he and Warlock stepped out of the woods. “Everything all right?”  
“Hello, darling! Hello, Warlock! Come join us. Everything is fine.” Aziraphale left off Adam to place a kiss to Crowley’s cheek.  
“Holy shit!” Aziraphale and Crowley turned in unison to find the source of that.  
“Language.” Crowley said before he could stop the Nanny in him from coming out. He noticed Warlock staring down the celestial being by the demon’s side, surrounded by unicorns.  
“You’re really...” Warlock puttered out, his one pair of eyes flicking about at Aziraphale’s multiple orbs. “You’re an angel.”  
“You already knew that though.” Aziraphale pointed out.  
“Yeah, scales and glimpses. This is way better.” Warlock’s stunner expression breaking out into a grin, “Are those real unicorns?”  
“Well, they’re certainly not aardvarks.” Crowley said, giving them a little push of encouragement forward. “Go for it. The unicorns and I don’t get on.”  
“You can’t pet them?” Adam asked as he watched Crowley keep his distance. He felt a little better about life as he joined the demon.  
“I wouldn’t pet those nags with horns for all the little plastic toys in China.” Crowley said to answering grumbles from the nags with horns.  
“He can’t pet them.” Aziraphale answered honestly for the demon. “Unicorns don’t get on well with the infernal.”  
“Who would want to? I can think of more fun ways of getting stabbed.” Crowley grumbled.  
“There’s a fun way of getting stabbed? Since when?” Aziraphale asked incredulously before turning quite red when Crowley whispered the scenario into his ear.  
“Feeling better?” Adam asked Warlock, the former Antichrist happily feeding the foxes and the old badger instead.  
“Kinda.” The other child shrugged, “Do you live with Nanny and Brother Francis?”  
“No. Adam just wanders in whenever he wants.” Crowley said, “Bad penny, that one. Worse than a cat.”  
“I’m Adam. I’m their godson.” Adam rolled his eyes at the demon. “Are you going to be staying around for a while?”  
“Yeah, I think so.”  
“Brilliant! I can introduce you to Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale then. We can show you all the best places in the forest to play!” Adam was already planning on them being the best of friends.  
“I don’t always do well in groups.” Warlock admitted, trying to go back to standoffish, but Adam didn’t give them the chance to.  
“I turned out to be the Antichrist, and we’re still all friends. They won’t care if you decide to be a boy or girl or even something in between.” Adam being Adam, his happiness and excitement infectious. “Pepper wins all of her fights. Brian’s always sticky so don’t loan him anything expecting it back clean, and Wensleydale nibbles on everything he eats so it take him forever to finish a meal. We all have things about each other that makes us different.”  
“You don’t think I’m...weird?” Warlock asked, “My parents think I’m weird, especially my dad. He thinks that this just a phase, that I’m acting out.”  
“It’s good to be weird. Life would be so boring otherwise.” Adam assured Warlock, the other still not looking convinced.  
“Look, you’re surrounded by a blessing of unicorns by a pond full of magic healing water. Your nanny and gardener are a demon and an angel, and you’re going to be living with them. See my dog over there, the one who’s pretending he isn’t stalking that hedgehog, he’s a hellhound, literally a hound from Hell. Your new best friend is the Antichrist you were mistaken for, and my friends and I defeated the Four Horseman, and after that, I told Satan off for being a terrible father.” Adam told Warlock. “I think you need to come up with your own definition for normal.”  
That was a lot to take in at once, Warlock taking their time before commenting. “He doesn’t look like a hellhound.”  
“I got him for my birthday, and I didn’t want a big dog.” Adam whistled, “Leave off that hedgehog! Come here, Dog!”  
“You named your dog, Dog?”  
“Saves a lot of trouble, a name like that.”  
“That’s so dumb. I love it.” Warlock smiled shyly back.  
“I know! We should have a dinner party so you can meet everyone!” Adam decided.  
“Adam, that’s a wonderful idea!” Was said by Aziraphale in the same moment Crowley said, “Adam, that’s a terrible idea!”  
“Angel, you can’t be serious.” Crowley  
“Oh can’t we? Please? The last one we had was so lovely.” Aziraphale pleaded, having the unfair advantage of multiple eyes to do so with.  
“It was almost a disaster.” Crowley reminded, though his resistance was already deteriorating.  
“But then it wasn’t.” Aziraphale pointed out, the beginning of a pout beginning to form.  
“No, none of that, angel! Fight fair.” Crowley asked, “ Oi, Warlock! What do you want? This little shindig is all for you, but only if you want one.”  
“Can we decorate everything with pink, purple, and blue?” Warlock asked, looking like someone was getting ready to yell at him.  
“Of course, we can, dear one! Whatever you would like!” Aziraphale’s own gleeful infectious nature taking effect.  
“Then yeah! Let’s party!” Warlock whooped, startling the unicorns who gave them all petulant looks for being so suddenly noisy.  
“Pepper, Brain, Wensleydale and their families are all in.” Adam said, phone already in hand busily group texting.  
“I’ll ring Anathema, and Madame Tracy on my mobile cellular phone.” Aziraphale said, ignoring the strangled look Crowley gave him. The angel was quite proud of himself for remembering that he had it with him.  
“What did you do to your phone?“ Crowley gaped at the dazzling thing that was Aziraphale’s phone now. It had a custom tartan case with gold accents to match the angel’s personal own, and a dangling charm in the shape of a wings. It even had a bejeweled pop socket with a winged heart design on it.  
“Adam helped me get a outfit and accessories for it. It now has its own wardrobe.” Aziraphale beamed, “Hello, Anathema. What are you and Newt doing this evening?”  
“Unbelievable. He’s had the damn thing for almost a year, and has barely touched until now.”  
“He also let me take this.” Adam said, flashing Crowley what was probably one of the most adorable pictures he had ever seen of Aziraphale. He only saw it for a second though, Adam grabbing Warlock’s hand so that they could run up ahead.  
“Adam, don’t you dare run off! Send me that picture! Adam! Damn it, Warlock be a good person, and get Nanny that pic!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos take their tea with cream and sugar, and your comments take it with just lemon because your comments are sweet enough as they are.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner conversation.  
Tumblr prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay well.
> 
> Here’s some fluff. Enjoy the serotonin.

“Do you poop?”

Crowley looked up from his phone to stare at Warlock, the origin of that particular question. The dark haired child was studying their former nanny quite intently. 

“I was wondering about that myself.” Adam piped up, looking concerned about the internal workings of the occult and ethereal as well.

“Certainly not at the dinner table.” Crowley said, setting his phone aside since this conversation promised to be far more entertaining than anything tumblr had to say about the new terrible changes he had made to it. The demon had really thought the whole thing would have collapsed in on itself when he had gotten rid of all the porn, and banned the nipple. 

“That’s rather personal question.” Aziraphale said as he set down dinner. It was spaghetti and meatballs because the angel had made ciabatta bread earlier that very morning, and Aziraphale adored themes. 

“No, it’s not. Everybody poops.” Adam said, already putting loads of Parmesan cheese, enough to make Aziraphale wince, on his pasta. He passed it off to Warlock who had a tad more restraint. 

“Well if everybody defecates, why ask it at all?” Aziraphale pointed out. 

“You can say poop.” Crowley was only having meatballs. He had a very firm stance against eating spaghetti, stating that it felt too much like cannibalism to the snake demon.

“Because you’re not everyone.” Adam said, making a valid point.

“Must we talk about this now?” Aziraphale sighed.

“You were the one bemoaning that dinner conversations was dead the other day.” Crowley snorted, stealing a meatball from the angel’s plate, or at least, tried to. He got hit with the back of a spoon for his efforts. “What? Is it going to put you off your appetite or something?”

“Foul fiend.” Aziraphale said, giving the demon one of his meatballs anyway. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Crowley said with a grin before turning back to the children. “To answer your question, neither one of us has ever had need of the facilities.”

“About that...” Aziraphale had the strangest look on his face that neither Adam or Warlock recognized, but Crowley read like an open book.

“What?! Noooooo! You?” Crowley carried on, becoming very animated about it.

“Yes. Once.” Aziraphale sighed. There was no getting out of it now.

“You’ve actually taken a shit?! Like an actual sit down shit?” Crowley was enthralled, trying to wrap his brain around it.

“Just the once. It was very unpleasant.” Aziraphale assured. 

“I can’t believe you! When? Where?”

“Have you never wanted to use the little demon’s room before? Try it out for, well, shits and giggles?” The angel and demon ignoring how the children were watching their conversation like it was a pro tennis match.

“No. Everything that comes out of humans looks and smells bad enough. Why would I want this body to produce that? I draw the line at semen.” Crowley said, “I’m still not over the fact you’ve popped a squat.”

“Must you be so vulgar about it? It was a very, very long time ago.” Aziraphale, the First Liar, lied. It had actually been quite recent. The angel had given it the old college try after reading about the wonders of Japanese toilets. 

“Why would you ever?” Crowley wasn’t about to let this go. 

“I just wanted to see what the whole hullabaloo was about. I assure you, it won’t be happening again.” Aziraphale said more primly than he had any right to be, or at least, in Crowley’s opinion. 

“Did you take a piss too?” Crowley asked after a moment. 

“Why do you care if I did?” Aziraphale sighed into his wine. 

“Got kicked out of Heaven for asking questions. Why do you think?”

“You got kicked out for that?” Warlock perked up. 

“I didn’t know that. Seems a bit unfair if you ask me.” Adam said, scrunching up his face in thought.

“God was a bit techy in the beginning, new at everything and all. She wasn’t big into open criticism at the time.” Aziraphale said as tactfully as he could manage. 

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one, and I’d call it more than just a bit. I don’t actually know why She did it, but that’s my best guess.” Crowley downed his wine to pour himself an overly full glass. “But you can apparently lie bold faced to Her, and be just fine.”

“You lied to God?!” Adam turning to stare at the flustered angel who just got elevated by full tiers into the area of badass in his mind.

“What happened after you did?” Warlock asked, equally impressed. 

“Sweet fuck all.” Crowley bit out. 

“Language.” Aziraphale said, giving the demon a look to get one right back. “But he’s not wrong. Don’t know why I wasn’t punished. God moving in Her mysterious ways, I suppose.”

“We’re getting off topic here. Did you or did you not take a piss?” Crowley asked overly loud.

“Oh, for the love of someone, yes! Happy?” Aziraphale snapped, “Do you want to know anything else, or may I enjoy my dinner in peace?”

Crowley was silent for exactly one quietly enjoyed meatball. “How was it?” He finally asked. 

“Not bad, but terribly messy.” Aziraphale gave up, pushing his plate away until he got the rest of this conversation out of Crowley’s system.

“Messy how? All you do is point and aim.” Crowley got up to mimic. 

“You’ve never taken a wee in your entire existence, and now you’re suddenly an expert?” Aziraphale pointed out dryly. 

“I’ve only been watching humans do it for over 6,000 years. Some goes for you. How are you not an expert?” Crowley said as he flopped back in his seat again, looping one leg over the arms.

“Because watching someone do something is entirely different than doing it yourself.” Aziraphale said, a touch crossly, “I’d like to see how you’d manage.”

“What did you lie about?” Adam asked, getting back on the other track. 

“Oh, um, well, I somewhat touched base on it at the airfield during the series of unfortunately fortunate events. You see, I was the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and Crowley was the wily-“ Aziraphale bumbled about, a little caught off guard. 

“He gave away his flaming sword to Eve and Adam as they left Eden so they wouldn’t be cold or defenseless.” Crowley cut to the chase. 

“Did you two know each other in Heaven?” Warlock asked, not knowing that it was somewhat of a touchy subject to ask a demon or angel.

“Nope.” Crowley answered for them, popping the ‘p’ in it for emphasis.

“Would you two have ever met if you were still there? Adam pressed. 

“Highly doubtful. Crowley was a StarMarker, and Principalities are Earthbound angels.” Aziraphale said after a moment of consideration. 

“Well, there’s your answers.” Adam said, looking far too pleased with himself for anyone else’s comfort. 

“The answers to what, my dear boy?“ Aziraphale asked, feeling a little bit nervous. 

“About why God didn’t punish you. You did a nice thing for something She created and loved, and wanted you to protect. You would have been a rubbish Principality if you hadn’t.” Adam explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and for him, it was.

“I’ve never thought of it like that.” Aziraphale said, getting all misty eyed. 

“You said answers. Plural. What’s the other one?” Because Crowley was keen like that.

“Well, if Crowley had stayed a StarMarker, you two wouldn’t have met.”

“God moving in Her mysterious ways, and all.” Warlock said, catching Adam‘s eyes as they jerked their head toward the back door. The children left the table, giving the angel and demon space so that they could have a quiet moment together, just like God had intended all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos sing about missing meatballs. Your comments slurp the noodles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments adore Aziraphale’s tea cups. Your kudos eats all the biscuits.


End file.
